Holding Ground
by lachlanrose
Summary: In a post MRA, post Legacy world, Logan and Scott fight to hold on to what little peace they've found. A coming-of-age story. AU
1. Prologue

**Title: **Holding Ground  
**Author: **lachlanrose  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Never were. Never will be, so sue me and you'll regret it, bub.  
**Feedback: **Sure, why not? I'm feeling lucky today. ;) The good, the bad, the ugly welcome...  
**Summary:** In a post MRA, post Legacy world, Logan and Scott fight to hold on to what little peace they've found. A coming-of-age story. AU  
**Notes: **Thanks to the usual suspects for the beta, to Frost for the line, and to everyone else (you guys know who you are) for all the encouragement, previewing and feedback. You ladies rock. :) This fic was inspired by Terri's amazing 'Winter in Banff'. As one might imagine with that set up, this one is on the darker side. Pathos. Angst. Citrus. Cursing. (Heh) Violence. Drama. Some of the content might be a little squicky if you're sensitive, so I'll just put up a general warning now and call it good. This one is adult in theme and content. Full stop. It clocks in at thirteen chapters (and a wee prologue). You definitely need the lay of the land before you dive in. Right, then. Off we go...

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**Prologue**

_Nil homini certum est._  
Nothing is certain for man.

The war between Homo sapiens and Homo superior came sooner than anyone would have expected and was far more horrific than anyone could have possibly imagined. Sparked by opposition to the Mutant Registration Act, and fueled by violent factions on either side, humans were quick to go on the offensive, afraid that if they let mutants gain a foothold, they'd eventually take control of everything.

The offensive was swift and utterly without mercy. Mutant women and children were slaughtered by the thousands and mutant men were collared and put to work. Humans saw no need to kill off the males in their quest for dominance. That would only deprive them of the most powerful - and expendable - slave workforce the world had ever seen. In the face of utter hopelessness, small pockets of mutant resistance formed, and soon the world was plunged into war. The fighting was brutal, with no clear victor emerging from either side.

The release of the Legacy virus, and its subsequent mutation, decimated both mutant and human populations worldwide, killing billions and leaving countless others unable to bear children. It circled the globe in a matter of months, leaving death and desolation in its wake as its near perfect mortality rate ravaged the world's population.

The mutants who survived searched desperately for the few isolated strongholds that were rumored to exist. Gaining admittance to these remote outposts was difficult at best. They were held and run by the strongest mutant males left - ones who'd obtained and maintained their power by brute force and sheer, unfaltering will. Forced to live in a hard world and make hard choices every day, their word was law. The truth of the matter was there simply weren't enough provisions to go around and sacrifices had to be made.

The weak did not survive.

The lack of women had become critical to the continuation of the species. To combat the genocide, mutant doctors developed a test to administer to female children in order to identify mutants before their powers ever manifested. Mutant parents often requested the test to see if their children carried the 'X' gene so they could be better prepared, but it was specifically aimed at children with human parents; parents who would either be unwilling or unable to keep their children safe once the mutation manifested.

Finding such children was rare, and special placement teams rescued these girls before their powers could manifest and expose them, making them clear targets for the Extermination Squads. It was a relentless, thankless job and many brave men died to bring the chosen children to safety and deliver them to the remaining mutant strongholds, where they would be cared for until they came of age. In a time of desperation, those children were their only source of hope. Resources were limited and many men went without because unless those girls survived, the future was lost.

There is an old human saying: You might bring the enemy to their knees, but they are not defeated until the hearts of their women are upon the ground. The mutants who were left had gathered what hearts they could find, and they protected them fiercely. In those isolated camps, there was no worse crime than harming a woman, and it meant certain death to hurt any child under the protection of the camp leader. When these girls reached the age of consent, they moved from the leader's protection to that of the man they'd chosen. Touching a woman bonded to another was also cause for death - usually at the hands of her mate. It was a barbaric but effective system.

In what was left of North America, there were four of these isolated camps rumored to exist. There was one in the wilds of the Everglades, run by the vicious mutant, Sabretooth. He was a giant of a man and well known for taking pleasure in making people scream. Of the four, his camp was said to be the worst - only marginally better than trying to survive alone. There was another camp believed to be in what was left of New York City. An odd place for a camp to be sure, but it was said that Magneto, the mutant who ran it, used the scrap metal left behind in the ghostly city to fashion quite an impressive camp for himself and those who chose to follow him.

Of the remaining two camps also rumored to exist, one was believed to be located somewhere in the mountains of Colorado. It was said that a powerful mutant known as Cyclops ran that camp. Of all the camps, his was rumored to be the best - and the one hardest to find.

A man known only as Wolverine ran the fourth and final camp. He controlled an area in what used to be known as Jasper, way up in mountains of Canada. His camp had the distinction of being the hardest to gain entry into, and this is where our story begins...

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Author's note: I know it's a short one tonight, especially for a wordy nutter like me, but the next chapter's double length (damn near 6000 words) to even us out a little. Pace yourself. ;) Logan in all his surly glory will be arriving momentarily. ((grin))


	2. Hope and Darkness

**Hope and Darkness**

_Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodies? _  
But who will guard the guardians themselves?

[Logan's Camp]

Logan got out of the Jeep and crossed over to the other side of the barricade, giving the young guard with the strange red and black eyes a rough nod. The kid took a long drag on his cigarette, readjusted his rifle, and nodded in return as Logan made his way to the large, blue-furred mutant who was waiting outside the commandeered army truck. He wondered why Hank had made an unscheduled run so late in the season. It wouldn't be long before the first hard snowfall.

"Whatcha got?"

"Greetings to you as well, Wolverine."

Logan grunted and took the cigar out of his mouth before repeating, "Whatcha got?"

Hank sighed, wishing things could be different. This was never easy. "Five girls, ranging from ages eighteen to eight."

"Unclaimed?" Logan's voice was sharp. He didn't take in claimed women. He didn't want any trouble that could be avoided. Life was hard enough without having to constantly be on the lookout for an angry husband or lover.

"Yes. We have determined the two who are of age have yet to be claimed."

Logan took a slow drag and Hank watched as the tip of his cigar glowed red. "Any alphas in this bunch?"

Hank nodded. "Yes, but I must warn you-"

"Let's see 'em." His tone left no room for argument and Hank did as he was ordered. Logan was the best chance these girls would have at survival.

He tossed back the canvas flap at the back of the truck and peered into the dim interior. "Ladies, if you would please be so kind as to exit the vehicle."

"Coddlin' 'em ain't doin' 'em any favors, Hank." He crossed him arms over his chest. "This ain't Club Med."

"I believe we are all quite aware of that, Wolverine."

Logan watched as Hank helped the first three little girls from the truck. The last two jumped down without assistance.

"Let's hear it." He hated this part. Hated deciding who would have a chance and who would be sent away. Even if they needed women desperately, he couldn't provide for them all. Winters this far north were just too harsh.

Hank pulled a file from the front seat of the truck. "We have one hailing from-"

"Cut the crap." Logan came to stand in front of the two older girls and jerked his head at the tallest one. "Start with her."

"Very well. Age eighteen. Alpha class. Telekinesis and some latent telepathic ability. Tests showed an aptitude for a medical based-"

"That's enough, Hank." Logan turned to her. "What's your name, Red?"

Hank was a little surprised by that. Usually Logan didn't like to know their names until _after_ he'd made his decision. There was no point in adding a name to go with the faces of those turned away. Curious.

She lifted her chin haughtily to cover her fear. "I'm Jean." She could tell he was interested in her. Most mutant men were. Jean smiled inwardly. She could sense the lust in him lying just under the surface. It boded well for her. Perhaps he wasn't bonded and was looking for a woman. She had no problems with that. He looked a little rough around the edges but belonging to a powerful man meant his status was transferred to her, and she'd always liked being in a position of power. It meant that in turn, she had power over her own life and the power to help those she cared about.

Logan's eyes lingered on her small, upturned breasts for a long moment before he turned to the next girl. "What 'bout her?"

Hank shuffled some papers and began reading. "Age eighteen. Alpha class. Psionic ability to control climactic and meteorologic-"

"In English, bub."

"Oh, yes. Remarkable. Simply, remarkable." He broke off at Logan's stern look. "In a nutshell, she can control the weather."

"That's one helluva handy mutation, honey." He came to stand in front of her and inhaled. He could smell a lie on this one and he was pretty sure he knew what it was. "How old're you?"

Her cool measured gaze met his unflinchingly. "Eighteen."

"You sure?" He sniffed again. He could tell she was lying. Logan watched with interest as her eyes whited over and suddenly, a strong breeze eradicated all trace of her scent.

She never moved. "I am sure."

"Fair enough." He knew she was probably close, so he let it slide. Mutant women above the age of consent were not only afforded special rights, but also protection. Obviously, this one knew that, and was not about to give up control of her own life and follow along blindly just because she was a few weeks shy of eighteen. Logan respected strength and intelligence and she had both in spades. This one was a survivor. She would do well here.

Logan turned his attention to the three younger girls and was shocked to see the state of the smallest one. She was thin and frail, with great dark eyes looking out of a too pale face. That in itself wasn't surprising. Many came here gaunt and starving, but by the looks of it, she'd had a rougher time of it than most. She had a healing black eye, a split lip and from the way she was standing, it looked as if she probably had a few cracked ribs. Her breathing was labored and her face was partially hidden by a long tangle of hair that seemed to be an odd mix of both brown and white. Something about her tugged at his heartstrings, rousing his protective instincts, and he cursed himself for his weakness.

_Fuck_.

Logan grabbed Hank's arm and steered them out of earshot. "What's with the runt?" They didn't have the provisions to waste on anyone who might not make it. "What the fuck do you think you're doin' bringin' her here?" This shit was hard enough without turning away beat up little girls who never should have had the chance in the first place.

"She's an alpha prime, Logan." Hank's voice was soft. "It is imperative she survives."

_An alpha prime? Goddamn_.

There were only a handful of known primes still living. Logan was one, as were Scott and Sabretooth. Female primes were rare, even before the war there hadn't been many. Logan only knew of two; one was Mystique and the other was Carol Danvers. Not surprisingly, both of them had gone underground when the war started.

Logan's brows drew together in thought. Both of them had mutations relating to their skin. Mystique's skin could mimic anything with nearly flawless perfection and Carol's skin was invulnerable. Logan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wondered if this small girl would have a similar skin-based mutation or if it would manifest in an entirely different way. Both invulnerability and the ability to hide in plain sight, as Mystique could, would be welcome gifts in this bleak world.

Logan's mind was reeling. How could one tiny, frail body harbor that much power? He took a deep drag on his cigar and blew the rich smoke into the crisp air. He'd been waiting a long time for one like her. Someone who wouldn't bend under his indomitable will. Someone strong enough to lead at his side. A true mate in every sense.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and gave the girl another look. "What's her story?" He looked back at Hank with an unreadable expression. "And what's with the white hair? Somethin' wrong with her?" She didn't have the shorn head that indicated she'd been rescued from a lab, but it was definitely odd to see a shock of white hair on one so young.

Hank read through her file. "She was rescued on her way to the camps." The disdain in his voice was clear. The death camps, as they called them, were beyond horrific. Most who were sent there wished for death long before it ever came to them, especially the women. "Her mother was a beta class touch telepath. From what we understand, she was also empathic - with the ability to both read others and to broadcast. Apparently, she had hidden her ability from her husband." Logan nodded. It was common enough for mutants who could pass as human to hide their gifts, even from their own spouse. "I am quite saddened to say that when she was exposed, her husband beat her to death." Again, Logan nodded. That was all too common. It wasn't even against the law anymore. "Unfortunately, she was holding the child at the time... and broadcasting."

"Fuck." It was more of a growl than a word.

"I concur. A most traumatic experience for the child." Hank cleared his throat and continued, trying for clinical detachment, but failing. "Witnesses on the scene reported that when she was pried from her dead mother's arms, her hair had already turned white and she was nearly catatonic." He didn't add that in the three weeks he'd been caring for her, she had yet to say a single word to him.

"Jesus, Hank." Logan's eyes flicked back to the child. "Those marks on her - they're from her father aren't they." It was a statement, not a question. Rage boiled through him at Hank's nod. "That fucker." Logan's teeth flashed dangerously, but the predatory grin didn't touch his cold, flat eyes. "I'd like some time alone with that asshole."

"It has already been taken care of." The words were quiet, but carried a hard edge.

"Placement team?" Logan saw a flash of something in Hank's eyes and understanding flooded him. Hank had been part of the team. It wasn't one of his regular duties. He was far too noticeable to move about in public, but even the most hardened hearts weren't invulnerable. "I hope it was slow."

Hank nodded and his lip curled in disgust, affording Logan a glimpse of his rather impressive canines.

"It was." Something dark and wild that might have been satisfaction burned hotly in Hank's eyes for a split second before he returned his golden gaze to the file. "It is unconscionable what they do to even the smallest of us."

Logan's face was hard. "She ain't any more damaged than the rest of us." The truthful words were low and quiet. Hank nodded again, all too aware of what the war had cost each and every one of them. "It's just more noticeable on some than it is on others."

Near the truck, two of the smaller girls stepped closer together and grabbed each other's hands as they watched the two men talking. They looked over at the smallest girl, who seemed content to stand all by herself a few steps away. The one with blue eyes started shaking and risked a whisper to her new friend. "I'm scared, Jubes."

The other little girl shook her head in uncharacteristic silence. "Me too, Kitty. Hairy-face looks mean. Do- do you think he's gonna keep us?" Although 'hairy-face' could be a term applied to both men, Kitty knew which one she meant. They'd realized pretty early on that Hank wasn't the least bit scary - at least not to them, but woe be it to anyone who threatened his charges.

"I don't know." Kitty had already been through this at Cyclops' camp. If hairy-face didn't take her, she would have to try her luck at one of the smaller, less secure camps or try to make her way on her own. "I'm scared. What if-"

"Shhh. They're coming back," Jubilee whispered as she clutched Kitty's small hand tightly.

Logan and Hank made their way back over to the girls. The 'runt', as Logan had dubbed her in his mind, moved protectively in front of the other two little girls and looked up at him through her dark tangled hair.

"You're scaring them." Hank's eyes shot to the girl. Those were the first words she'd spoken since she'd been in his care. Her voice had a soft southern accent, but the tone was hard. She unwrapped her arm from where it had been cradling her cracked ribs and let her arms hang free.

Logan recognized the gesture. She was preparing to fight him. His eyes widened in shock and something tightened deep in his chest. There wasn't much that could surprise him after all he'd seen, but this tiny girl's bravery could and did. He covered his momentary lapse with a grunt.

"Scrappy little thing, ain't ya?"

For some strange reason, hairy-face didn't scare her at all. She could tell he was strong and dangerous, but something inside her insisted he was... safe. She pushed the other girls farther behind her and held her ground as he came to stand directly in front of her. She was sure he wouldn't hurt her, but she wasn't very sure about what he would do to the others.

Christ. Most grown men wouldn't stand toe-to-toe with him, yet here she was, not only holding her ground, but staring at him defiantly. Something twisted sharply inside him. Logan inhaled, instinctively taking in her scent to see what it told him about her. What he smelled underneath the dirt and the blood shook him profoundly. Her scent called to him, spoke directly to the animal coiled inside him. His every primal possessive instinct rushed to the fore, screaming at him that this girl was his.

It was distinctly unsettling. He'd never had such an extreme reaction to a scent before and he'd certainly never smelled anyone who just smelled 'right' to him. What was most disconcerting was that she smelled familiar. Not like he'd met her before, but on some level a part of him recognized her as belonging to him - with him.

He slowly dropped to a crouch before her, taking care not to move in any sort of threatening way. Logan rested his forearm on his bent knee and stared at her intently, taking in every detail. She stared back at him and he got the distinct impression she saw far more than he was comfortable revealing.

"What's your name, darlin'?"

At the soft question, she looked around at the others before meeting his eyes again. "Rogue."

Logan frowned a little at that. He wondered if the others weren't around if she would have told him her real name. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So young and already building walls to protect herself. He understood why she did it. They all had to if they wanted to survive in this world. She tensed a little at his frown and he tried to lighten her mood a little.

"What kinda name is Rogue?"

She looked at him quizzically for a long moment. "What kinda name is Wolverine?"

Logan let out a sharp bark of laughter that sent Kitty and Jubes scuttling backwards and he smiled - a true smile that touched his eyes. He hadn't smiled a real smile in a long time.

"Can ya keep a secret, kid?" Rogue nodded, staring at him with wide brown eyes. He pitched his voice low enough so only she could hear him. "My name's Logan."

Rogue considered that for a moment. She looked around again at everyone else and whispered back just one word. "Marie."

Surprised yet again by her soft admission, Logan felt a warm rush of satisfaction that she'd trusted him enough to tell him her real name. Not even Hank had her real name in his file. He nodded at her, suddenly aware that all eyes were on them. He knew he didn't have a lot of time - the longer they were outside the perimeter of the camp, the more vulnerable they were - but he would make time for this.

Again he spoke the words so softly only she could hear them. "You don't hafta be afraid, kid. I'll protect you."

Marie looked back at him. "Promise?" Her big dark eyes were full of tears and Logan was pretty sure it was because nobody had offered to make her feel safe in a long time - maybe never.

"I promise," he whispered back. He stood up and stepped back gesturing to the other two. "Okay, Hank. Let's have it. Her first." Logan inclined his head towards Jubilee. He was well aware of the conversation between the two girls earlier. His sensitive hearing had easily picked up their hushed whispers.

Hank reopened the file. "Age eleven. Beta class. No manifestation as of yet."

"And her?" Logan nodded towards Kitty. Logan watched with interest as something in Hank's demeanor and scent changed, but his voice remained level.

"Age ten. Alpha class. Again, no manifestation." Logan could tell Hank was holding something back there, but he let it slide - for now. Hank closed the file and smiled at his smallest charge. "And last but not least, we have Rogue. Age eight." His voice hesitated for just a second. Nobody but Logan needed to know she was a prime. "Alpha class. No manifestation."

Logan looked over the bunch. He had room for two maybe three if he pushed it a little. Fuck, he always hated this part - deciding who would have a chance and who would have to try to make their way at one of the smaller camps or on their own. His own law dictated he had to take the two women who were of age. They were unclaimed and above the age of consent. In return for protection, they would be allowed to choose from all available men who were capable of supporting a woman.

No woman above the age of consent was allowed to live in camp and go unclaimed. It caused too many problems, too many fights. Those girls he took in who were underage were given his protection until such time as they came of age and moved from his guardianship to that of the man they had chosen. It was a crude system, but drastic times called for drastic measures.

As crude as it was, the system worked. In the last seven years, sixteen children had been born at his camp. Regretfully, none of them had been girls, but at least it proved that not all women had been rendered barren by the Legacy virus, and in this time - in this world - each newborn child, each woman with a swelling belly, provided hope for the rest of them.

Again, Logan and Hank walked out of earshot of the girls. "Have you decided?"

Logan nodded and worked the cigar in his teeth. "Gonna take the oldest two." He looked away for a moment and then looked back at Hank. "And I wantcha to take the smallest one to Scott."

Hank looked surprised. "You forget, my friend, that I saw the way you interacted with my young charge. Are you certain you wish to send her away?"

Logan took the cigar stub from his lips and met Hank's eyes for a long moment. "Christ, Hank, you think I want her here, growin' up seein' me as some kinda father figure?"

Hank smiled and nodded knowingly. "Scott formally requests that you accept the blue-eyed child for the same reason."

That rocked him back. Logan's eyes flicked to Kitty. "One-Eye finally picked one for himself, huh?" He looked at her again. She seemed a little skittish, but there was a certain quiet stillness about her that he knew would appeal to Scott's sense of order. "Interestin'."

"Indeed."

Logan raised an eyebrow at Hank and grunted. "He ain't more 'n a kid, himself."

Hank smiled. He was used to the banter. Logan knew full well that Scott had proved himself many times over. One did not go through what they'd all been through and remain a 'kid'. In truth, Scott was a young man, but one who'd had his youth violently ripped from him, and he was every bit as hardened and callous as Logan was when it came to running his own camp.

Hank chuckled quietly. This was an old game. Logan and Scott had known each other before the war and their bickering was one of the few constants in a world that had changed far too much. Both men held a deep respect for the other, although they'd never admit it. That each man was willing to send his future mate to the other to raise was telling in itself.

Finally, Logan nodded. "I'll take her if he'll take Rogue and the little yellow one."

"You drive a hard bargain, my friend, but Scott was expecting no less. He will accept your conditions." Hank paused. "In truth, I was instructed to accept nearly any terms you dictated."

"Wanted me to take her pretty bad, huh?"

Hank nodded. "He did, indeed."

"Yeah? Well, you can tell him he'll be lucky if I don't fill her head with a buncha shit about his lame-ass flyin' ability." Logan grinned wickedly. "Or the fact that he's more goddamn uptight than a buncha old biddies at a garden party."

"Levity from the Wolverine?" Hank smiled. "Scott will be pleased he managed to rattle you that much."

"Hmph." Logan grunted and turned his gaze back towards the girls. This time when Logan turned back to Hank, all amusement was gone from his face. "Just be sure you get her there safe. She's-" Logan broke off, aware Hank was watching him intently - a little too intently. "Just get her there safe," he repeated.

"You can rest assured I will take the utmost care with her." Hank smiled. "It would seem our business is concluded, is it not?"

"Yeah." Logan inhaled, breathing in the crisp autumn air. He was silent for a time. "Good thing you didn't come any later. Gonna be snowed in pretty quick."

"I concur. Scott, too, is preparing for an early winter. I would not normally have made the run this late in the season, but he was adamant about getting the child to you before the first snow fell."

This time when Logan spoke there was a hard edge to his words. "You tell One-Eye I'll protect her with my life and I expect the same of him."

"I will deliver the message, although I am sure he is well aware of the conditions. This was not a decision he made lightly."

Logan's eyes came to rest on Marie. "Me either."

"Every precaution to ensure their safety will be made, I assure you." Hank's voice softened. "They are our future." That was especially true of Logan and Scott. There was precious little that kept them from being swallowed up by the darkness they waded through each and every day.

The two men walked back to the truck and Logan watched with some interest as Hank slid the file beneath the driver's side floor mat and then pulled something from under the seat. He grinned widely and offered the small package to Logan.

"Scott requested this be given directly to you."

Logan grunted noncommittally and looked in the sack. A low whistle escaped his lips as he closed the bag. "This a bribe in case I didn't wanna take the kid?" He had to admit if it was, it was a damn good one. The small bottle of brandy was more than fifty years old and quite a rarity these days.

Hank shook his head. "No. It is simply a thank you for considering the offer." He grinned again as he pulled a small box from under the seat. "_This_ is the bribe." He handed it to Logan. "I was instructed to leave it with you as a gift if you agreed to take the child without any _additional_ incentive."

Logan sucked in a breath when he realized what he was holding - nine honest to God _real_ Cuban cigars. "Holy shit." He couldn't imagine where Scott had gotten these. They were quite literally worth a king's ransom now.

"I heartily agree." Hank smiled and answered the question he knew Logan wouldn't ask. "Scott took the Blackbird to Xavier's and liberated a few things he had left in the ruins." The smiles faded from their faces. The school held painful memories for all of them. Scott, Hank and Logan had all been wounded in the terrible battle that killed Charles and ended a dream.

"Jesus. And he says _I'm_ reckless."

Hank smiled. "He prefers the term, 'calculated risk'." Hank ignored Logan's snort. "He did not undertake such a trip merely for cigars, Logan. He went because he finally found _her_." His voice softened as he looked at Kitty. "He went to retrieve a family ring he kept in Charles' hidden safe."

Hank didn't say the rest out loud, but Logan clearly heard the words. Scott wanted something tangible to remind him of what was waiting for him, something to hold on to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm him... and if he could do that, something to give her when he finally claimed Kitty as his.

Now Logan understood, but he couldn't resist getting in one last dig. "And he just happened to 'liberate' Chuck's stash of good liquor and fine cigars while he was at it?"

Hank chuckled. "That's about the size of it, yes."

"Cocky bastard."

"I believe I expressed the very same sentiment."

Logan's eyes narrowed as he ran his rough fingers over the small box. "Why nine?" It was clearly a deliberate number. The box originally held ten. He knew Scott too well. He'd always had a strange affinity for numbers and patterns.

"Ah, yes. Scott was hoping you'd ask." Hank looked at Rogue. "He wanted you to have one to smoke each year on her birthday until she was returned to you." Hank knew he didn't need to tell Logan when her birthday was. Logan had read her file. He might not have Scott's talent for numbers, but he had a memory like a steel trap.

"She's eight." Eight plus nine was seventeen not eighteen. He couldn't touch her until she was eighteen.

"Yes." Yellow eyes flashed with quiet amusement. "He assumed you would want her returned to your keeping shortly before she actually turned eighteen." Hank chuckled quietly. "I believe he thought on the eve of her eighteenth birthday you would prefer to be filling your time with something _other_ than cigars and brandy."

_Damn right, I would_.

Logan nodded once. "I know it was him that sent the cigars, but the brandy hadta be your idea. He'd have sent scotch."

"I thought that it would be a splendid addition to those very fine cigars."

"You're right." Logan clapped Hank on the back and slid the box of cigars inside the paper sack along with the bottle. "You tell him I'll make sure his girl always has somethin' nice on her birthday." Hank understood that was as close to thanks as the proud Wolverine would come.

"Consider it done."

Logan nodded. "Let's get this show on the road." Logan hailed his guard as he and Hank made their way to the back of the truck. "You two," Logan indicated to the two oldest girls, before turning to Kitty. "And you. Go with him and wait for me in the Jeep." Kitty gave Jubilee's hand one last desperate squeeze and turned to follow the others towards the Jeep.

Seeing the looks on the faces of the remaining two girls, Hank hastened to add, "Do not worry, little ones. You two are to be taken to Cyclops' camp. You will be safe there. It is a fine place to make a home." Hank smiled at them. "We will be leaving shortly. Do either of you require assistance entering the vehicle?" Marie and Jubilee shook their heads and silently climbed into the back of the truck. Jubilee moved quickly, eager to be out of the biting wind, but Marie moved slower, protecting her sore ribs as she climbed carefully into the back of the truck. Her lip trembled.

Logan couldn't help but feel proud she didn't ask for help even though he could tell she was hurting, but the sad, watery stare she turned on him before she disappeared behind the flap made his heart twist. He could only imagine what she must be thinking, being sent away after he'd promised to look out for her.

_Shit_.

She smelled like she was about to start crying, too, and he had no idea how to comfort a young child. While he had several children under his protection back at the camp, he had little direct contact with them. They were cared for by two mutant women who were well beyond their child bearing years. Running the camp took the majority of his time. He walked back to the front of the truck.

Maybe it would be best just to let Hank explain it to her. Hell, he had little experience with kids... although he felt more comfortable with her than with any other kid he'd ever run across. Come to think of it, he'd felt more comfortable with her than with anyone else he'd ever met. He was still deciding what to do when he saw Hank heading his way.

Hank approached Logan. "Are you going to tell her goodbye? Ten years is a long time."

Logan grunted. "Not for someone like me, it ain't."

"I suppose that is true, but it is for someone like her," Hank reasoned quietly.

Logan considered that for a minute before handing Hank the bag with a curt nod and heading to the back of the truck.

"C'mere, Rogue." He reached for the little girl, picking her up gently, with a care for her sore ribs, and carried her into the trees a short distance away; close enough to be safe, but unable to be seen and heard from the road. Her eyes were filled with tears and her little fingers found his hair and stroked softly in a sad effort to soothe herself. He set her down and crouched before her.

"Did- did I do something bad? Is that- is that why I can't st- stay now?"

Logan's heart constricted in his chest. "No, darlin', you didn't do nothin' bad." She was crying harder now and her tears were just tearing him up inside. "You did real good protectin' the other kids. I'm real proud of you for that. You gotta strong heart." Christ, his eyes were beginning to burn. "I ain't sendin' you away 'causea that or even 'cause I wanna."

"Is it 'cause of my m- momma?" Her voice had gotten even smaller and her shoulders were shaking some now.

"No, kid. It ain't 'causea that either. Your momma loved you a whole lot. More than all things." Logan took a deep, shaky breath as Marie flung herself against him and wrapped her small arms around him, pressing her face into his neck and clinging to him like a little monkey. Logan stroked her soft hair and returned the hug. "I gotta keep you safe, darlin'. I promised you I would. It ain't safe here for you yet. I'm sendin' you to my special friend. He's gonna take real good care of you 'till it's safe for you to come back to me."

"Is he gonna hit me? I don't wanna go if he's gonna hit me."

_Jesus, darlin'. That just about broke me_.

"No, darlin', he ain't gonna hitcha. Not ever. He ain't gonna let anyone else hurtcha either. He'll kill anyone who tries. He's gonna watch over you real good 'till it's time for you to come back to me." She eased a little at his words, but she still smelled scared. Inwardly he cursed, wishing there was more he could do to ease her fears. "Marie?"

She pulled back to stare up at him. "Yeah?" She sniffed and wiped at her tears with the back of one grubby hand.

"I wanna give you somethin', okay? Anyone that sees this'll know that messin' with you means messin' with me." Logan took the tags from around his neck and showed them to her. "See this? That says Wolverine - that's me. You're a smart girl. You heard Hank call me that before. Everyone knows that name." Marie nodded and touched the tags with one shy, curious finger. "I'm gonna put 'em on you, okay?" Thank God, she was nodding more and crying less. He wasn't sure how much more of her tears he could stand. Logan fastened the tags around her neck. "That means you're mine, darlin', and nobody touches anythin' that's mine."

Marie looked up at him with her great, dark eyes. "Does it mean you're mine too?"

_Out of the mouth of babes_.

"Yeah, it does, darlin'. Forever and always." Logan's eyes narrowed as he watched her face scrunch up. She seemed to be thinking really hard about something.

"C- can I give you something too?" She looked at him with a gravity that was out of place on such a small child. "You gotta promise to take real good care of it. It's special."

Logan nodded, wondering what on earth she had to give him. "I promise, kid." He watched with interest as she pushed her hand into her pocket and drew out a small crumpled scarf. It was sheer and smelled of both a soft floral perfume and faintly of old blood.

"It's my momma's." Marie held it to her face and breathed in her mother's perfume one last time before pressing it into Logan's large, rough hand.

Logan could barely get the words past the lump in his throat. "I'll take real good care of it, Marie." He tucked it into the pocket over his heart and patted it. "I promise." Logan carefully picked her up. "You ready to go now, darlin'?" She nodded and he carried her back towards the truck. At the edge of the trees he pressed a quick kiss to her hair and whispered, "Anytime you get scared, you just remember you got the tags and you're mine." Crossing the distance to the truck quickly, Logan set her gently in the back and noted with satisfaction that her small hand clutched his tags fiercely but she wasn't crying.

Hank joined him at the back of the truck. "Are we ready to depart?" He gave the kids one last check and was shocked to see Rogue wearing Logan's tags. In all the years Hank had known Logan, he'd never taken them off. His eyes swung to Logan's and he almost missed the imperceptible nod.

"Yeah, we're good to go." Logan followed Hank around to the front and took the package back from him before he climbed inside the cab. "See ya in the spring, Hank." His tone grew more serious. "And you tell him to take care of what's mine."

"I will indeed, my friend. I will indeed."

Without a backwards glance, Logan headed back to the waiting Jeep feeling hopeful for the first time in longer than he could remember. Both he and Scott had found something worth fighting for. Something more than a piece of ground to hold and defend. Something more than homeless, hurting people to protect. Something to keep them from being swallowed by the darkness and becoming like Sabretooth, or worse.

There was a very fine line between leader and dictator, between justice and murder, between a man with a hardened heart and a man who was heartless. Logan knew the truth, the same as Scott did. They both walked a very fragile line and those two precious girls were all that stood between them and that unrelenting darkness.


	3. Marks of Power

**Marks of Power**

_Progredimur quo ducit quemque voluntas._  
We go where our will leads each one of us.

Like he always did, Logan waited for the new arrivals to settle themselves in the Jeep before he joined them. The seats they chose usually told him more about them than they did themselves, especially in the beginning. As he'd expected, he saw Jean had taken 'shotgun'. That wasn't surprising. He could smell her interest in him and she seemed the type to like any show of power, even if it was as simple as her position in the car.

It had been his experience that those people who believed themselves to be important or powerful, or who were a little insecure, usually chose the front passenger seat. The real leaders, ones who didn't have any need or desire to proclaim who or what they were, usually chose the back seat. Interestingly enough, they almost always chose the seat behind 'shotgun,' presumably because from that position it was easy to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.

Logan was a bit surprised to find Kitty in that seat. He'd been expecting the white-haired one to be sitting there. Perhaps his initial assessment of Kitty as skittish was a little off the mark. Perhaps cautious or analytical would have been better to describe the petite girl. It would seem as if Scott had chosen well. Logan looked again. She was eerily still - almost as if she knew if she held still enough she could fade into the background, but for some undeterminable reason, he could sense her unnatural stillness wasn't an attempt to hide - it was simply a part of her nature. A quirk unique to her. Her heart wasn't beating too quickly and her scent was interested and curious rather than shy or frightened. A small smile ghosted across his lips. Yes, Scott had definitely made a good choice.

Logan's eyes slid over to the white-haired weather witch. She was in the Jeep, but it was clear her attention was focused on his guard. The Cajun was keeping a respectful distance, but his unusual eyes were lingering where his hands and lips could not. Even at this distance, Logan had no trouble hearing their quiet conversation.

Remy took one last drag on his cigarette and crushed the butt under his boot heel. A long time ago he might have flirted outrageously with her, might have tried to make her blush with pretty words and smooth Louisiana charm, but he wasn't that person anymore. The war had touched everyone and everything. It had changed them all. He would never be that devil-may-care playboy again. And he would never again take the touch of a woman for granted.

Before the war, the sight of a pretty woman had always excited him. Made his blood race and the charm tingle wildly under his skin. He'd liked the challenge, the thrill of the chase. Now the sight of a beautiful woman was bittersweet. He would always love looking at an attractive woman, but it was harder now because each time an unclaimed woman joined the camp there was always the brief flare of hope, however small, that she was the one meant for him, and that was the hardest part of all.

The redhead was stunning, but he'd seen the way the Wolverine looked at her. The interest there on both sides was unmistakable. Remy wasn't a fool. The Wolverine didn't share. His brows drew together. Perhaps Logan, too, had grown tired of a cold, lonely bed, the unfulfilling satisfaction of solitary release, and the oppressive solitude of an empty cabin winter after winter. The redhead was beautiful, but it was the white-haired woman who had caught Remy's eye. He was not some callow untried youth. Twenty-eight winters had come and gone for him, and the last five had been here. He was aware her gaze rested upon him as well. That terrible hope swelled again inside him.

Maybe she was the one.

Maybe he wouldn't be spending another winter alone.

For a moment, he longed for the sultry heat of a New Orleans night. The sounds of Bourbon Street and the soft patois of Cajun French tickling his ear. The taste of beignets melting on his tongue and the savory tang of dark roux simmering. The heady perfume of magnolias on the breeze and the low sweet sound of jazz that made his body loose and his blood run hot. How he wished he could have shown her that world - but it was long gone - changed forever. That place was dead now. No more music. No more colors. No more life. He pushed those thoughts away. It did no good to dwell on the past, however pleasant it might have been. He survived in the moment, living for the future, and maybe with her he'd get a chance to have one that bore some semblance of the way things used to be.

A woman to warm his bed and his heart. Someone to laugh at his jokes and make his heart smile. Perhaps even a small child on his knee, patting her papa's rough cheek and reaching for her maman with chubby pink fingers. A game of cards, shared. A shower, shared. A life, shared. Would he ever have that?

Whereas once he would have tried to charm the pants off her - literally - in this time, he was far more respectful. Women were too few, too precious, to be treated in such a cavalier manner. Remy inclined his head toward her in an old world gesture of gentility. There were some things not even war could strip from a man. He smiled softly and spoke quietly.

"Gambit glad you have joined us, _chér_."

She smiled back with a quiet grace Remy hadn't seen in more years than he could remember. It had been a long, _long_ time since he'd been in the presence of a true lady. Women? Yes. Ladies? No. And this one? She was a goddess.

"I am also glad. The world is a hard place to live in." She smiled again. "Especially for people like us." Her voice was cultured and soft with a light foreign accent that he couldn't place. The way she said 'like us' made him think she meant something more than the fact they were both mutants.

"Like us, _petite_?" He questioned softly.

"Your eyes." At her words, Remy's heart fell and he silently cursed the hopeful feeling that had once again proved to bring him nothing more than new heartache. He cursed that damning weakness even as he cursed his unusual eyes. He couldn't help the way they looked. He knew they made most people uncomfortable, but he wasn't a demon. He was just a man. He started to turn away, but her words stopped him. "Your eyes are different - like mine," and softer still, "And they are... kind."

When he looked back at her, his red-on-black eyes widened when her eyes whited over for one brief moment and he felt something like electricity crackle between them. Odd as it was, he swore he smelled the faint scent of ozone as a gentle breeze caressed him, tickling his long hair against his neck. A quick flutter. A greeting. Surely he hadn't imagined _that_.

That terrible hope flared anew and he glanced at Logan, who was now heading their way, before turning his attention back to her.

"You know how t'ings work here? Dat you must choose?" She nodded twice. _Good_. "Gambit speak for you at the claiming if you like, _chér_." She nodded again but before she could say anything, Logan reached the Jeep.

He crossed his arms over his powerful chest and glared at Remy. The girl could do a lot worse. In truth, the kid was one of his inner circle. One of those trusted few who could be counted on to carry out his orders without question, and one of the select few who had an opinion that actually carried some weight with him. It took a lot to earn his trust and this kid had it. Still, he couldn't show favoritism. Logan grunted and jerked his head back towards the guard post.

"Save it for the claimin', Gumbo."

Remy had expected the biting remark. Logan was gruff, but fair, and he only sparred verbally with those people he truly cared about. If he'd really been pissed, Remy knew he'd be on his back in the dirt right about now and probably on the dimmer side of consciousness.

"Gambit plan on doing exactly dat, _homme_." With nimble fingers he lit another cigarette and nodded once more at the occupants of the Jeep before turning to head back to his post.

Logan knew he couldn't show favoritism, but he could at least give the kid something to think on for the rest of his shift. He looked at the two new arrivals in the back seat. "Names?"

"I am Ororo." Logan was aware she spoke it loud enough for Remy to hear. _Smart girl_. His initial assessment of her was right-on. She would do well here, and at least now Gumbo knew her name. That piece of information would do more to warm Remy and keep his mind alert than any cigarette ever could. Logan carefully stowed the package under the seat and climbed into the Jeep.

"And I'm Katherine - Kitty."

There was no need for Jean to introduce herself again. She just smiled at him softly. It wasn't lewd or slutty, but there was some definite heat behind her eyes that stopped just short of being an invitation. She definitely had the vibe of someone who was used to male attention but who didn't feel very comfortable with it. Maybe in a few more years, he mused. He wondered if she'd known a man yet. She was unclaimed, but that didn't mean she was untouched. Not in this world. Not anymore.

Logan grunted noncommittally and started the Jeep. "It's a long ride. Buckle up." He looked over his shoulder at the girls in the back seat. "There's a blanket on the floor if ya get cold." He spared Jean a glance. 'Shotgun' didn't get a blanket.

_Heh. Welcome to my world, darlin'. The only power you get here is the kind I choose to give ya_.

Logan gave Jean one last look, noticing that she was indeed cold. What color would her nipples be? Pink? Red? Brown? His groin tightened and he looked away from her svelte curves. There would be time enough for that later - assuming that she would agree to be his, at least for a season or two. Marie was only eight. A decade was too long to be alone and he'd always had a bit of a thing for redheads. Never had a bad ride yet. From the smell of things, he was pretty sure that wasn't going to be a problem here either.

But that need could wait. Right now he needed to get them back. His first priority was getting Kitty safely settled. He hadn't accepted the responsibility of caring for her lightly. He could not afford to have Scott swallowed by the same darkness that threatened him. He knew the young girl in the back seat was Scott's best chance to beat back the darkness, the same as he knew the little girl sitting in the back of Hank's truck with her hands wrapped around his tags was his. He returned his attention to the road and delivering the girls safely to camp.

The three girls watched in fascination as they began to see people - mutants - from time to time among the trees. It was the first time any of them had ever seen people who were obviously mutants moving about unmolested in public. Logan smiled inwardly. Those born during and after the war were always surprised the first time they saw their own kind going about their lives in public like regular people.

The Jeep passed underneath a wooden sign that had obviously undergone some changes since the war. The top sign read, '**Welcome to:**' and the second sign hanging under it that used to read '**Jasper National Park**' had been replaced with a roughly cut wooden sign that bore no words, only one distinctive mark - three vertical slashes gouged into the wood that were stained a deep black.

Logan caught the glance that passed between Ororo and Kitty in the rear view mirror. Kitty met his eyes and smiled knowingly with a little nod of her head to acknowledge the mark was his. Yup, Cyke had definitely chosen well. She was a pretty sharp kid.

"God, what kind of animal leaves a mark like that?" Jean breathed as she twisted in her seat to get another look. Kitty caught Jean's eyes and pointed a single finger at the Wolverine.

"Probably that kind, Jean."

Jean spun back around so fast that Logan heard her teeth snap together. A feral smile touched his mouth, but he said nothing. He had no need to proclaim himself the biggest baddest motherfucker in the valley. They'd find that out soon enough on their own. They'd all heard Hank call him Wolverine. Most mutants had heard the rumors about the camps. He knew that his name, as well as the names of the leaders of the other big camps, were passed from one mutant to another by word of mouth. Spoken about in hushed whispers to give hope to the hopeless and to hold back despair when it threatened to overwhelm them. They knew who he was - and that this was his place.

It was common for newcomers to recognize his name, but to know about the nature of his gifts was more unusual. A rare smile touched his lips. He liked the sharp little girl sitting so still in the back seat of his Jeep. The next eight years with her would prove interesting indeed. The thought of having some influence in shaping Scott's future mate gave him a great sense of satisfaction. He was going to enjoy this. He'd never do anything to hurt Scott, but he'd always taken an obscene amount of pleasure in needling him. His inner smugness waned when he realized that Scott would have the same influence over Marie.

_Shit_.

Even as his irritation grew, he realized on some level they both needed this. Needed the distraction raising these girls would bring. Needed the knowledge that they, too, would someday have the comforts they saw others taking from their women. No man could stand alone forever without eventually succumbing to the darkness. No man could be the rock that bore the brunt of the storm without having some support to keep him from crumbling. The truth of the matter was that Scott and Logan needed this, and it had been a long, long time in coming.

Since the establishment of their respective camps seven years ago, both men had been with a few women when the rare opportunity presented itself, but sharing their bodies and sharing their hearts were two entirely different things. In the beginning, neither man had the time or the energy to devote to anything but fighting to carve out a place for themselves. After that had come the brutal battles to defend what they'd managed to build from those who sought to take it by force.

Not long after, realization had set in that finding someone to share their life with, to be strong enough to lead at their side, would be difficult indeed. And so, eventually, both of them had started quietly looking in their own subtle way. Now each person who joined their camp was carefully scrutinized, not just for the usual things, safety, stability, value to the community as a whole - but also for compatibility as a potential future mate.

It might sound cold, but Scott and Logan lived in a hard world. They did not have the luxury of choosing someone based solely on their personal desires. Hundreds of people depended upon them. They had to make a good choice. Logan spared Kitty a glance and his thoughts drifted to Marie.

Hopefully they had both made the right choice.

Only time would tell.


	4. Enter My House

**Enter My House**

_Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_.  
All things change, and we change with them.

Thankfully, the rest of the ride into camp passed in silence. Finally the main lodge came into sight and Logan pulled the Jeep up in front of it and killed the engine. This was the center of his camp. A long time ago, this had been a prime resort with an impressive main lodge and a few hundred cabins scattered throughout the surrounding land. Now, the lodge served as camp headquarters and the dormitory for all girls who were under the age of consent. All other residents, one hundred and eighty-three at last count, lived in the cabins spread throughout the vast park. His inner circle was always here, but the others took turns in shifts working here so no one person would feel more important than any other.

"Power."

Logan turned in his seat to look at the owner of that voice.

Kitty spoke again, with awe in her voice. "You have power here." Logan nodded. It was one of their best kept secrets - one the outside world knew nothing about. Not much got by this kid. No wonder Slim picked her. "How is that possible?"

"We gotta guy here, goes by Glitch." Logan paused. "He usedta build up this charge that threw anythin' electrical 'round here outta whack." A smug grin crossed his face. "'Till we figured out that he don't have that problem if he bleeds off his excess juice into the back-up generators. The supply's pretty much endless." Thank God, there was at least one thing he didn't have to strictly ration.

"Refrigeration." Ororo's voice was soft. That was how he was able to feed so many people throughout the winter and into the lean spring months. Logan nodded.

"Hot showers." Jean sounded excited. Logan's nostrils flared. On the ride back, he'd felt her eyes sliding over his body more than once... and from her scent, she obviously wasn't thinking about a solitary shower. Even though her thought had been entirely self-involved, he couldn't really fault her for that. The fact was hot showers were one of the perks of living here. A lot of people had done without for so long that a hot shower was not only something to be enjoyed physically, but it was a reminder of the way things used to be. They were a simple thing, but did a lot for morale. As a leader, he found her self-centeredness a little disappointing, but as a man who was very tactile, he understood - and shared - her desire to glory in the sensual delights of a hot shower.

"Computers." Kitty's voice was even, but Logan noticed she was rubbing her fingers together unconsciously - the same way a drunk did when he was thirsty and you mentioned alcohol.

_Hmmm. Interestin'_.

"There somethin' I should know about here, kid?" His voice was dry.

Kitty flushed. "I sorta have this uh, gift, for that kinda stuff - computers I mean." Logan's eyebrow rose. "No, not that kind of 'gift'. I can just, um, figure stuff out, I guess."

"Good to know. I'll have someone hook you up later." He noticed Kitty's eyes practically glazed over at the mention of getting 'hooked up'. He hadn't meant it literally, but hell, if this kid could help keep their computers running smoothly, he'd be more than happy to hook her up both literally and figuratively.

Logan climbed out of the Jeep and waited for the girls to do the same. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd had to make this particular speech. He hated doing it now just as much as he had the first time.

"There's some rules you gotta agree to before you enter my house," he gestured to the lodge behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "If you don't like 'em, Pyro, here," he nodded at the young man who had silently materialized by the steps of the lodge, "Will drive you back to the gate and you can try makin' it on your own." He paused, and the tip of his cigar glowed red. "Up to you."

Nobody had ever chosen to leave before, but he knew people always responded better when they felt like they had a choice - however shitty it might be. "First off, I wantcha to know you'll be safe here. The penalty for harmin' a woman is death. They know it. Now you know it." He saw the girls nodding solemnly. _Good_. They needed to realize that rule wasn't something he fucked around with.

"Here's how it works. If you're underage, you stay here in the main lodge 'till you're old enough to choose a man of your own. If you're already over the age of consent, you get your pick of the available men." He took another puff on his cigar. "That part ain't as bad as it sounds, either. It ain't like you just gotta pick one outta the blue. The night before the claimin' - which happens two days from now - those of you who are old enough will have the chance to get to talk with anyone who's interested."

He watched as both Ororo and Jean relaxed slightly. He knew from experience that it could be a bit overwhelming for the girls to be the object of so much focused male attention, but it was better than picking someone they'd never even spoken with before.

"I know that two days ain't much time for you to get usedta things, but it's too dangerous to have unclaimed women in camp." His voice was flat. "Causes too much fightin' between the men." He'd learned that the hard way. His rules might be strict, but there was a good reason for each and every one of them.

"At the claimin', you pick someone and move from my house - my protection - to his. I wantcha to know, no matter what, he ain't allowed to hurtcha or make ya do _anythin'_ you don't wanna do." That comment was aimed more at the older two, but he wasn't about to sugar coat it for Kitty. If she was going to lead at Scott's side one day, she couldn't afford to be insulated from the truth.

"And if the paring doesn't work out?" Ororo's voice was quiet, but not hesitant.

"I ask that you give it a season. After that, if it doesn't work you're allowed to choose again, but ya can't ever go back. I got enough shit to worry 'bout without mediatin' lovers' disputes." He didn't add that most often, in those cases, the first man usually challenged the second and was either killed or left the camp entirely. Women were simply too precious to give up without a fight. Thankfully, it didn't happen very often. The few men who had women knew how lucky they were, and worked hard to make sure their mates were content.

For a moment, Logan's attention shifted to the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but it quickly came back to the girls. "We gotta priest here and most couples choose to get married after livin' together for a season or two."

All three girls nodded. _Good_. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it." He paused. "There's one last thing." His voice grew hard. "Whoever you were out there - in the world - that person dies when you step into my house." This was necessary, not so much for these young women, but for the men who joined his camp who were used to being in positions of power. Whether you were former head of a Fortune Five Hundred company or a garbage man, you had equal worth inside the camp. "Everyone is equal here. So check your egos and your names at the door." He chewed the cigar in his teeth. As much as he hated this speech, this part was always kind of fun.

"What do you mean?" It was Jean asking this time, not Ororo.

"Well, darlin', I mean you needta pick a name that everyone here will know you by. If you wanna share your real name with someone down the line - well, that's on you." He leaned casually against the Jeep. "Tellin' your real name ain't against the rules or nothin', but it ain't exactly encouraged, either. You get me?"

Again all three girls nodded. Now for the fun part. Logan turned to Ororo. "So, what's it gonna be, honey?"

She was quiet a moment. "You may call me Storm."

Logan looked her up and down. "It's fittin'." He grinned around the cigar stub in his teeth and turned to Kitty. "What 'bout you?" The young kids were always a source of amusement for him. They picked some of the most unusual names. He bit back a chuckle. "Well?"

"I'm thinking." Her small brow furrowed. "This name will be with me a long time."

Logan was a little surprised. Most ten year olds didn't have that kind of long-term thinking. Scott would like that. _If anyone could think somethin' to death - it's him. Heh_.

"What about Shadowcat?"

Logan gave Kitty the once over. It wasn't as bad as some names he'd heard over the years, and she did possess that odd shadowlike stillness. Logan grinned inwardly. _Shadowcat and Cyclops?_ Definitely not your usual, but they did seem to fit somehow. He was the red light and she was the shadows. He gave Kitty a rare smile. "Suits ya."

Logan turned to Jean. "What about you, Red?"

"I just want to be Jean." She smiled at him and let just a hint of coquettishness into her voice. "Is that against the rules?"

_Fuckin' figures, she'd just hafta be difficult_.

She seemed like the type to want everyone to know who she was, but it wasn't really against the rules because nobody had ever refused to choose a new name. Most people, if they didn't have one already, were eager for the chance at a new start, a new beginning, with a fresh slate and a new name. He stared at her a long moment. He could force her to choose a name, but she'd just go and tell everyone her real name anyway, whereas if he let her keep her name, he'd look like he was granting her something.

_See, darlin', it's all about power - perceived_..._ and otherwise_.

"Fine by me." Of course, she didn't see the larger picture. There was a certain type of bond made between friends here when they revealed their true names to each other. Jean would never be a part of that now, but that was her choice - and her loss.

He needed to get them settled, but this time was going to be a little out of the ordinary. There was no way he was going to let Kitty stay in the lodge. That was fine for the others, but he wanted her close. He owed it to Scott. He wondered what everyone was going to think when he took Kitty into his home. Not the lodge - his real home. His personal cabin.

If things went the way he wanted, he'd be taking Jean there, too. It wouldn't be permanent. She wasn't the kind of woman he could see himself spending forever with. That place was reserved for Marie, and Marie alone, but he was tired of his solitary existence and it would be years before Marie was ready to be with him in that sense. He was tired of sleeping in a cold bed. Tired of finding release alone or with the occasional woman he ran across on the rare occasions he left the camp to 'appropriate' new supplies. They usually seemed to want what he had to give, a good hard roll in the hay, but that impersonal physical release had long ago grown old. He wanted something different now.

It wasn't just the sex, although that was a large part of it. Even he, hardened as he was, craved the softness that a woman could provide. He wanted to come home to a cabin that wasn't dark and cold. He missed the kind of intimate conversation that only lovers shared. Mostly it was just the simple things. He wanted to have someone to talk to over coffee in the evenings. Someone to help ease his burden when he felt overwhelmed by the hard decisions he was forced to make each and every day. He wanted someone to wrap himself around on those cold winter nights when the howling wind buffeted the small cabin and seeped icily through hidden cracks and under closed doors.

He'd had two women under his protection, his _personal_ protection, in the seven years he'd lived here. Noriko was the first. She was a godsend to him in the beginning when he was establishing this camp. She had the 'gift' of seeing into men's hearts, divining truth, and helping them to find balance. She could quite literally make order out of chaos. She'd helped him shape and refine what had become the laws governing this camp. She'd also warmed his bed and soothed the beast raging inside him when all the responsibility pressing down on him had been too much to bear.

He still missed her sometimes. Three summers ago she'd gone to Scott's camp because she was afraid if she didn't leave then, she wouldn't be able to when the time came, and she'd seen into his heart. She knew he was destined to be with another - the rogue child with dual hearts. The one who would bring him both fire and peace. She'd been right to leave when she did. They weren't in love; they simply balanced each other out. Last summer he'd heard from Hank that Noriko had married the man she'd seen in her visions, the one whose heart matched hers. It was clear there was more Hank had wanted to tell him, but he didn't want to know the details and thankfully Hank understood that. Logan was glad she'd found happiness, but it only served to remind him that he was still alone.

Natalie, the second woman who'd been under his personal protection, was a quiet dark-haired woman. This time, he didn't offer his protection because he wanted someone in his bed or because he needed someone to lean on. He did it because he'd always had a bad habit of picking up strays, and she needed a break. She'd been one of the few to escape from the death camps, a survivor, but also a terrified kid - barely seventeen. She was horribly scarred and emotionally withdrawn and he knew whatever fragile threads holding her sanity together would snap if she didn't get some time to heal.

He offered her his protection when she came of age and she accepted gratefully, knowing he wouldn't push her into anything she wasn't ready for. She was with him a year before she came out of her shell, and it was another six months after that before their relationship became sexual. She never loved him. That part of her was damaged beyond repair, but she trusted him and he knew she'd enjoyed the physical pleasure she'd found in his bed.

She died last winter when a particularly virulent strain of the flu swept through the camp. She just wasn't strong enough. She was tired of fighting, tired of scratching and clawing each and every day just to survive. She never told him about the spark of new life just beginning to grow inside her. The burden he carried on his shoulders was heavy enough already. In the end, she only held his hand and told him that it was okay. She was ready to rest, and he let her go without a fight because he'd long ago learned that once the will to live was gone, the body soon followed.

As sad as it was to let her go, a part of him recognized that she wasn't his true mate or he'd never have been able to let her go without a fight. They'd never loved each other; they simply found comfort in each other's company. And even as he said goodbye to her, a part of him ached for the woman who wouldn't give up, the woman who could bring him both fire and peace.

He buried her, and the child she didn't think he knew about, in the meadow above his cabin. Somehow, he was sure that whoever had implanted the adamantium had never intended it for that use. The claws cut through everything else though... why not permafrost?

Logan sighed heavily and rubbed his knuckles absentmindedly as he looked at the three girls standing before him. They were all survivors. None of them would give up the way Nat had. His eyes darted again to the dark clouds gathering on the edge of the horizon before flicking back to the girls.

"It's settled then." He stepped aside and made a curt gesture of acceptance. "Storm, Shadowcat and Jean, welcome to my house."

The three girls heard the formality in his voice and understood that accepting his offer of protection came with some rather weighty consequences. Not surprisingly, Kitty was the first to step forward and speak.

"I agree. Your rules. Your protection."

"Me too." That, from Jean.

Storm was silent a moment as Logan's eyes came to rest upon her. "I accept your protection and I offer my loyalty in return."

Logan heard the answering formality in her words and understood the implicit meaning in them. He grunted in answer, but met her eyes and gave her a firm nod. She would be one to watch. Few people gave the answer she did. Not surprisingly, most of the ones who had were now members of his inner circle. She would be a good match for the Cajun.

Logan turned to the young man at the edge of the steps. "Pyro, get 'em settled." He jerked his head at Storm and Jean. "I'll be back for her later." He indicated Kitty. "She'll be stayin' with me, up at the cabin." Logan could see the question in Pyro's eyes, but the kid knew better than to question a direct order, especially in front of other people.

Pyro nodded, knowing Logan would explain it all to him in his own time. "Will do, boss." He climbed the rough wooden steps and opened the heavy lodge door. The mouth-watering smells of beef stew, fresh bread and hot coffee wafted out and made their stomachs growl. He turned to the girls. "Come with me." He smiled at them and suddenly he seemed a lot less like the Wolverine's executive officer and a lot more like a gangly teenager. "Hot food, hot showers and a warm bed are just a few of the perks the WD has to offer."

"WD?" Somehow, Kitty was sure 'WD' didn't stand for 'Welcome Department'.

Pyro grinned. "Ladies, welcome to the Wolverine's Den."


	5. Calling the Sky

**Calling the Sky**

_Numquam aliud natura, aliud sapientia dicet_.  
Never does nature say one thing and wisdom say another.

Storm did not follow the others inside the lodge. Instead, she turned to Logan. "I would speak with you." He waved Pyro and the others on, and his eyes left the dark horizon to capture hers with a piercing stare. She spoke again. "You watch the sky." It was a statement, not a question.

His nostrils flared as he scented the wind, but his cold eyes gave away nothing. Deep lines of worry etched his sharp features. "Snow's movin' in fast." It was as close as he'd come to voicing his concerns to the newcomer. He didn't speak the words, but she heard them anyway. Hank's old truck was not going to be able to outpace the coming storm.

She nodded knowingly. "I can stop it." His eyes flicked back to hers. "I can keep it from touching the one who is to be yours."

"Whaddaya know 'bout that?" There was a hard edge to his voice now.

She broke the stare and looked away, fidgeting a little. For the first time since he'd met her, he caught a quick glimpse of the uncertain girl she hid beneath her stoic exterior. It was gone again just as quickly, and she met his gaze again without hesitation.

"The wind brings many things to my ears." She shrugged lightly. "I will say nothing on the matter to the others."

Logan considered that for a long moment. She smelled like she was telling the truth. "You said you could stop it?" He asked, finally.

Storm nodded her assent. "Yes." She hesitated. "I would not normally..."

"Fuck with Mother Nature?"

She nodded again. "She has a time and a purpose for all that she does." Storm looked out towards the dark clouds that were rapidly becoming more ominous. "But she and I... we have-" she paused, looking for the right words. "...an understanding." If he was as animalistic as the rumors painted him, surely he'd understand what she meant. "Do not misunderstand me. I will not stop the storm from coming. I will merely delay it until Hank and the others can get safely out of the storm's path."

Hazel eyes glittered. "Whaddaya want in return?" They always wanted _something_.

"Nothing." She paused a moment. "Well, perhaps not _nothing_."

_Fuck_. He knew it. Nobody did something for nothing. Not before the world went to hell and certainly not now. His eyes hardened and his voice became flat. "I don't bargain."

Storm smiled softly for a moment before her face grew serious. "It's not what you think." She ignored the skepticism in his gaze. "I ask only two things. One, that you take me some place secluded. I will not call the sky here."

He noticed she said 'will not' instead of 'can not'. A new arrival wanting to get him alone set off little alarm bells in his head and his eyes grew wary. "You lookin' to get me alone? You didn't have any trouble callin' on her before when you hid your scent from me."

She flushed a little at that. "That was a small matter. Diverting a storm is something... _more_." She looked away for a moment. "And I would also ask for a change of clothes unless you can be certain no others will see."

_Christ, I knew it_. "Tryin' to get somethin' outta me already." He was disappointed his original assessment of her had been a little off the mark.

She looked startled for a moment. "Not for the reasons you think." He said nothing. "I am still learning control. The lightning does not hurt me, but it chars my clothing."

He pulled his cigar from his lips. "If you're the child of nature you say you are, why dontcha just strip? Bein' naked ain't a big deal."

"Normally, I would. I have no problems with nudity." She sighed. "But if I am correct, I will have to choose a mate in two days' time." Her voice hardened. "I will not allow myself to be dangled like a piece of meat before a pack of snapping dogs. If you have as much of the animal in you as it is rumored, surely you understand that." She was comfortable stripping in front of Logan. He was a child of nature, after all... but she didn't want to strip in front of the others or ride back into camp in scorched, tattered clothing.

He considered her words and decided his original assessment of her had been correct after all. "Fair enough." His gaze grew thoughtful. "We don't have clothes to waste." Not exactly the truth. He was far better stocked than he let on, and he had no intention of parading her around naked. That would only incite a riot among the men. "If I give you my word nobody but me will see ya-"

"I will accept the arrangement." She didn't ask if he would be watching. She knew better. He was too smart a leader to close his eyes and turn his back on a newcomer - even if she was offering to help. And the thought of his eyes on her wasn't wholly unpleasant. He was finely made. Though he was not for her, he was still a beautiful male animal in his prime, strong and virile. She didn't want him, but she could appreciate his form and the air of power surrounding him. "We must go now." She looked toward the sky. "She grows stronger, harder to control every minute. Soon She will be _too_ strong."

He nodded. "Get in." He gestured towards the Jeep. "I know a place." Ten minutes later, a clearing in the trees became visible. "Nobody comes here." He was silent a moment. "This is my place." _Nat's place_.

"Stop the Jeep here."

Logan shot her a look. "It's faster than walkin'." They were still some distance from the clearing.

She smiled. "Yes, but if you want the vehicle to be in one piece when I have finished, you will stop it here." He raised an eyebrow at her but stopped the Jeep. "I need a secluded place with no structures and no metal. I am still learning to control it. Sometimes... Sometimes the lightning gets away from me." He could tell how much that small admission cost her. She was not the kind of person to easily admit her shortcomings.

He noticed a light flush on her cheeks, but pressed her anyway. "That why you didn't object to me watchin'? 'Cause you heard 'bout these," he flicked his wrist, letting the claws out on one hand and retracted them just as quickly. "And you figured I couldn't come close enough to really see ya?" He could care less about seeing her naked, but he would not be manipulated.

"Honestly, I do not care if you see or not. We are both children of nature. Nudity is different for us." He grunted in agreement. "It was not my intention to trick you. I want only to help Rogue."

He accepted her explanation, but he wanted to know her reasons behind it. "Why?"

"Many reasons." She could tell he wasn't going to accept that answer. "She put herself between you and the others." She was silent a moment. "That was not the first time she shielded the other two from a situation she perceived as dangerous." She took a deep breath. "I do this for her... and for myself, also." Logan's eyebrow rose again. He was surprised by that admission.

The storm child spoke again. "I realize that it will be many years from now, but one day she will lead here at your side. She is a brave child who deserves a chance at becoming a formidable woman." Her eyes twinkled as she unbuckled her seat belt. "I could do worse than doing a favor for my future leader."

"Hmph."

The playful light left her eyes as she climbed gracefully out of the Jeep. "I may be young, but I am not stupid. My future is here. Perhaps one day I too will be among those you _both_ count as a trusted friend."

Logan could only nod at this girl's grasp of the deeper implications of the situation. "I won't forget this."

"I won't either." That made his teeth flash in amusement. She wasn't without a little bite of her own. He admired strength and found himself grudgingly liking this new addition to his pack. Storm smiled and inclined her head once. "I must go now. Soon not even I will be able to stop it." She did not take her eyes off the clearing or the ominous clouds gathering overhead. "Do you watch?"

Logan studied her intently. His gut said to trust her. He turned in his seat, putting his back to her. "You can leave your clothes here." He smiled at the scent of her surprise. To tell the truth, he was a little surprised himself, but something in his gut insisted she was trustworthy. "I'll wait 'till you're out there before turnin' back around," he gestured to the large field. "That's the best I can give ya."

Storm understood. He had people to protect. He couldn't trust her completely. Not yet. "Thank you." Her words were quiet and he heard the sound of her clothes rasping softly across her smooth skin. She dropped them on the seat and headed into the clearing, unashamed of her naked body. The earth felt good against her soles. Welcoming.

When he could no longer hear her footsteps, he turned, fixing his attention on her. Her body was beautiful; lithe and graceful with pert, high breasts and long, slender legs. It was an appreciative glance rather than a leer. He was less interested in her body and more interested in her mutation. His worry for Marie and Hank was growing as the sky grew darker.

She stopped walking in the center of the clearing and held her arms out to her sides. Her chin lifted and her eyes whitened as the power surged within her. Overhead, the clouds began to darken, seething and rolling. Logan could feel an electrical charge building. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the sharp peppery smell of ozone permeated the air.

Logan watched with rapt attention as her hair whipped wildly about her face and her eyes began to flash with an eerie glow, crackling with barely leashed power. Small bolts of lightning appeared to be arcing away from her hair as it was lashed about by the strong wind. Raw energy seemed to be bleeding from her, as if her body couldn't quite contain the massive power surging within it.

Thunder clapped loudly, ringing in his ears as lightning began to fork wildly across the sky. He knew now why she refused to call down the sky in camp. Gooseflesh rose on his body as she lifted her arms and turned her face towards the heavens. A fierce crack of thunder rent the sky.

Awe coursed through him as he watched her commune with the sky. The electrical charge was making his body hum. He'd seen a lot of things in his time, but he'd never seen anything like this female lightning rod. _No, that ain't right. Conduit_. She was a conduit between earth and sky. Even as that thought crossed his mind, the conduit opened, and earth joined sky in the form of one massive lightning strike, exactly where Storm was standing. Another deafening clap of thunder shook the very ground beneath him.

The brilliant flash blinded him momentarily and when he could see again, the fierce wind had abated and the air was unnaturally still. The sky was no longer dark and seething, but simply overcast and the white-eyed weather goddess was no more. There was only a dark-eyed young woman left standing in her place.

Regardless of the perceived calm, Logan could feel her latent power humming through his body. Without warming, a huge bolt of lightning came from the sky and struck one of the ancient pines at the edge of the clearing. There was a sickening crack as it splintered apart. The strong stench of scorched wood and ozone filled the air.

Logan's gaze flicked from the smoldering tree to the young woman headed back towards the Jeep. He stuck his cigar back in his mouth and turned his back to her again, more out of respect for the power of Mother Nature than for her modesty. Even though nudity wasn't an issue for either of them, looking upon her now just seemed... _wrong_, somehow.

He heard her approach the Jeep and redress. "I have done what I can. They will make it out of the mountains ahead of the storm," she said softly as she climbed into the Jeep and he turned back around to face her.

"Thank you." His tone was gruff, but there was a wealth of emotion behind those two small words. She knew instinctively they weren't ones he used often.

"You are welcome." She smiled and a soft blush dusted her cheeks. She gestured to the smoldering tree. "If you would permit me?"

Logan nodded and watched with interest as her eyes became opaque once again and a soft rain began to fall, putting out the small fires still smoldering in the splintered trunk. The gentle rain stopped as quickly as it had started, and again, Logan watched as Storm transformed back from a weather goddess to a young woman. It was strange to see, especially with the scents of smoke and pitch still strong in his nose.

She smiled a little sheepishly. "I am sorry for that."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Got away from ya a little, huh?" Logan asked as he started the Jeep.

Storm smiled wider. "Yes, but it wanted to come here, to the Jeep. It was drawn to the metal." She paused a moment. "The tree was a safer outlet for the lightning's power. I am pleased I got it back under control."

There was just the barest hint of arrogance in her tone. He guessed that this was probably the first time she'd lost control and managed to get it back again so quickly. Good thing for him. Healing factor or not, that wouldn't have been a pleasant experience. "I'm glad too, darlin'," he said dryly.

While he had no doubt his healing factor could handle such a surge of power, he had no desire to be fried from the inside out. His thoughts turned to Marie and the amused smile faded from his lips.

Storm saw his expression change and understanding flooded her. "Hank is a good man," she said softly. "And Rogue is strong. She will survive the trip to the new camp." Her voice grew softer still. "And she will return to you stronger than when she left."

Logan grunted. God, how he hoped she was right. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they made their way back to camp. Storm's thoughts turned to the choice she soon would be making and the handsome guard with the striking eyes, but Logan's thoughts were a world away - in the back of a truck with one tiny scared girl who held both his tags and his future in her small hands.


	6. An Offer Made

**An Offer Made**

_Feras, non culpas, quod mutari non potest. _  
Bear, do not blame, that which cannot be changed.

Logan stopped the Jeep in front of the WD and turned to Storm. "Dinin' hall's through the main door and to the left. I'll send someone for ya when I'm through talkin' to Jean."

Storm nodded as she stepped from the Jeep. "I have no doubt she will say yes to whatever arrangement you propose." Her eyes flashed with wry amusement.

"There anythin' the wind doesn't bring to your ears?" He was only half jesting. Her awareness was uncanny.

She was silent a moment while she considered his words. "It has yet to tell me when your guard will be returning from duty this evening," she said, blushing slightly.

Logan bit back a grin. He liked the forthright weather goddess. "Wouldn't matter even if you did. He knows better than to seek out an unclaimed woman under my protection." Logan watched as the amusement faded from her eyes. _Shit_. He hated owing people - and he owed her. Big time. "That said, his shift ends in an hour and if I was lookin' for him, I'd most likely find him in the kitchen - sweet talkin' the cook outta a fresh cup of coffee and an extra slice of pie."

There, that was as much as he could offer, all things considered. He might be a law unto himself, but if the others thought he was playing favorites among his men and letting them take liberties with unclaimed women, all hell would break loose.

"I understand." She was quiet a minute. "About Jean..." She saw the warning in his eyes but continued anyway. "I know she can seem a little-"

"Selfish?"

"Self-absorbed, perhaps... but she's a good person. She's just... young."

"So are you, honey."

A hint of something unidentifiable touched her eyes. "Not in any of the ways that truly matter. Not anymore." Storm sighed softly and Logan's heart hurt for whatever she'd endured that had forced her to grow up so quickly. "She hides who she really is deep down, but that person is worth taking the time to know." Her brows furrowed as she decided just how much she wanted to share with him. Finally, she spoke. "There were many times on the journey here she went hungry so the little ones could eat." Storm fidgeted briefly, unsure if it was wise to speak to him in such a fashion, but in the end her conscience won out over common sense. "Please, do not be too hard on her."

Logan grunted; a little surprised to be on the receiving end of what was essentially a reprimand - from a newcomer, no less. He didn't much care for it, but he appreciated the information and it helped ease his mind about Jean and the decision he'd made to offer her his personal protection. Even so, her heart might be in the right place but it was clear she still looked out for Number One first. It was hard to fault her for that, though. Most people had to these days or they found themselves dead pretty quickly. Those who looked out for other people first were few and far between.

A memory of Marie stepping in front of Jubilee and Kitty surfaced and he felt a warmth in his chest followed by more than a touch of pride. He wondered what she would be like in ten years.

"You always this protective?" The tip of his cigar glowed red. Storm said nothing, but then again, he hadn't expected her to. "I'm lookin' for more than a roll in the hay from her." He rarely spoke of his feelings, and he was surprised that he did so now, but it was clear she was concerned about her friend and he wanted to put her at ease. He respected her and more surprising still, he realized he cared what she thought of him. He wanted her to understand something of his motives. "I ain't lookin' for forever. That belongs to Rogue, but it's been a long time since I've had a woman's touch in my home and even I like someone to talk to over coffee once in a while." He crossed his arms over his chest, satisfied with the brief explanation he hadn't intended to make.

Storm smiled, aware the unexpected moment of intimacy had passed. He was once again the stoic leader and she was back to being just another person under his protection. It was clear he was as uncomfortable sharing personal details as she was, so she added a touch of dry humor to lighten the mood. Her eyes danced. "Jean likes tea, not coffee. Green not black."

Logan shrugged and stuck his cigar back in his mouth. "I'll see what I can do." He grinned around the cigar in his teeth. "Now get goin'. I gotta camp to run."

Still smiling, Storm turned to leave and swayed unsteadily on her feet. Logan caught her arm to steady her and his eyes narrowed. "Takes somethin' outta ya to do what you did, doesn't it?" He could tell she wasn't going to answer. His lips thinned. "Won't do you any good to deny it. I can feel ya shakin'." Her heart was being a little irregularly too. He wondered if he needed to be concerned about that or if it was just a natural consequence of using her gifts.

He knew she didn't like talking about her weaknesses any more than he did his, but he wasn't going to let up until she answered him. If she'd put herself in danger by helping him, he'd damn well have it from her. Eventually she seemed to realize this and she turned her cool stare away from him.

"Electrolyte imbalance," she finally offered.

Logan nodded, relieved it wasn't something more serious, and he let her go when he was certain she'd sufficiently recovered her composure. It made sense. Electrolytes helped the body regulate its electrical impulses. No wonder hers were out of whack after the massive amount of raw power she'd channeled through her body.

"Go eat. When you're done - say in an hour or so - tell May, our cook, I said to give ya some extra juice and a slice of pie." He looked away. "I'm sure she's got some in the kitchen somewhere." _Along with a Cajun kid fresh offa his shift_. That ought to perk her up right away, imbalance or not.

Storm nodded again. "Thank you. I will be sure to do so." Eyes sparkling at his unexpected kindness, she left to find the dining hall and May. Her body tingled with nervous energy. She wanted more time with Gambit and was grateful to the Wolverine for granting her the opportunity to talk with him again.

Swallowing a smug smile, Logan crushed out his cigar and followed her inside to be sure she made it to the dining hall, before tracking Jean's scent to one of the rooms on the second floor. He wanted to get things straight with her so he could focus his attention on getting Kitty settled comfortably into his cabin.

He knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an answer. This was his camp. There was nowhere he couldn't or wouldn't go, and she hadn't yet earned the right to privacy. Some lessons were better learned the hard way.

He closed the door behind him and smiled inwardly at the inviting picture she presented. She was asleep on her right side with one slim hand drawn up under her chin. He wasn't quite certain how she managed to look both fragile and hot at the same time. She'd obviously showered before she'd fallen asleep. Her freshly dried copper hair spilled like flames across the stark white sheets. Her old clothes, though dirty, were neatly folded by the bed and she was wearing fresh clothing - a gift from Pyro, no doubt.

Even though Pyro went out of his way to make all the new ones feel welcome, he was also a man searching for a mate of his own and he took great care to make the women feel especially comfortable here. Logan glanced across the room and smiled. He'd left Storm a fresh change of clothes as well. He had to hand it to the kid. He knew how to charm the women. Not with sweet words or pretty gestures, but with a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and clean clothes he'd chosen specifically for each of them. He had a knack for guessing sizes and he almost always managed to choose something that was both comfortable and attractive. The clothes he provided, coupled with a hot shower and a hot meal, made John pretty unforgettable.

Logan's eyes settled hotly on Jean. Under the thin blanket, the soft curve of her breast rose and fell in a gentle, even rhythm. His groin tightened painfully and he allowed himself the small, forbidden pleasure of rubbing her silky hair between his long, rough fingers. Without hesitation, he gave into temptation and imagined it wrapped around his fist, teasing over his bare skin as she moved her body rhythmically under his. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. She smelled good, and it had been far too long since he'd touched a woman intimately. He let go of her hair and curled his fingers into a fist to keep from cupping her soft, inviting curves through the blanket.

_Fuck_.

Distance. He needed distance between them _now_ or she'd be flat on her back under him, rules be damned. Logan retreated silently to the desk and sat down on it heavily, resting his booted foot on the accompanying chair.

It bothered him that even now, even with the prospect of carnal pleasure so close to hand, that it was Marie's face that was foremost in his mind. It made him uncomfortable and yet he couldn't quite bring himself to push her from his thoughts.

"Wake up, Red." He felt a small twinge of guilt for disturbing what was probably the first restful sleep she'd had in quite some time. He knew she was exhausted and resting safely for the first time in weeks, but she could sleep later. He wanted this settled now. He'd already made the decision to have Kitty live with him. He needed to know if Jean would be joining them so he could make the appropriate arrangements. Like any experienced man, he'd long ago learned that when women were involved, it was best to plan ahead.

"C'mon, Jeannie, wake up." Jean awoke abruptly and scooted back sharply, hitting the headboard with an audible thump. He could hear her heartbeat jack up considerably as she looked wildly around. "Easy, honey. Nobody's gonna hurtcha." He knew all too well what fears made women wake like that.

Jean took a deep breath and pushed her hair out of her face with a shaky hand. The small movement pushed her breasts against her shirt and Logan swallowed a growl as he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. The faint shadow of her nipples was clearly visible through the thin shirt. He wet his lips unconsciously as he imagined how her skin would feel under his mouth.

Ruthlessly, he pushed down the desire to devour her. He didn't make a move toward her, but he didn't bother to hide the direction of his gaze. She was a fire in his blood and he wouldn't apologize for his body's reaction, or for being attracted to her. Especially not when he knew she felt the same thick heat coiling low in her belly. "Easy, honey," he repeated, waiting for her to calm down a bit before he continued.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget where I am and I'm afraid that-" She broke off abruptly as she became fully aware of where she was and who she was talking with. Inwardly, she berated herself for her rash words spoken freely in an unguarded moment. She did not want to appear weak, especially in front of him.

"S'okay. Didn't mean to startle ya." His soft words were at odds with the expression on his face. He raked her body with his eyes and made no effort to conceal his erection from her now blatantly flirtatious stare. There was no point in hiding it. He figured she probably had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to talk to her about, and even if she didn't, she would soon enough. He didn't mince words. "I just needed to talk to you a minute 'bout somethin' important."

Between the hungry look on his face and the obvious sign of arousal in his worn jeans, it was clear 'talking' wasn't the only thing on his mind, but Jean refrained from commenting. She was all too aware pushing this particular man was a very risky thing to do. She tossed back the light blanket and settled herself more comfortably against the headboard, letting him look his fill and looking her fill in return. He was magnificent. Powerful. Ruthless. Dangerous. Wholly male... and intensely aroused. The amount of raw sexual energy surrounding him scared and excited her.

"What you wanted to talk about... does it have anything to do with the claiming?" Jean asked finally, after several tense minutes of silence while two pairs of eyes wandered where hands and mouths could not. She fought to keep her voice level and her breathing even.

Aware her eyes had been lingering just as much as his had, he nodded and shifted his boot a little higher on the chair. He was uncomfortably hard, and the scent of her arousal was making it hard to focus on anything other than taking her up on the offer in her eyes. He knew what she wanted. He could smell it. Hell, he could practically _taste_ it. God, he wanted to ride her hard and fast until she screamed.

'Latent' telepathic abilities or not, she must have caught that thought from him because she blushed crimson and lowered her eyes to the floor. She shivered and a very male smile of satisfaction graced his features as he watched her nipples peak under his intense stare.

"I want you." He said it starkly, without embellishments of any kind. Her eyes widened and he could hear her heart begin to beat faster within her chest. "I don't play games." His husky voice excited her but there was something in his eyes that gave her pause. "I'm only gonna make the offer once."

"Offer?" It came out almost a squeak and Jean cringed inwardly, hating that he could have such an effect on her. She'd worked so hard to have the power to make her own decisions. She wouldn't allow herself to be reduced to a simpering girl simply because she was attracted to him. Not now. She was stronger than that. She needed to secure her position here first. Everything else would come later. She took a deep breath and met his eyes unflinchingly.

"Protection." He paused and his voice grew huskier, as if he knew what it did to her. In truth, he did. He was no stranger to women. His low, gravelly tone rasped across her skin as surely as any touch. It made her burn. "My _personal_ protection."

Jean suppressed an erotic shiver and barely managed to hold back a triumphant smile. She'd 'felt' his attraction from the beginning and had hoped he'd make an offer. She could do a lot worse than being the leader's woman. It wasn't quite the same as having the final say over the course of her life, but it was damn close.

A sexy little smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Only protection?" Despite the overt sexual tone in her words, she plucked at the sheet with nervous fingers while she waited for his answer.

"I ain't gonna sugar coat it for ya, honey." Piercing hazel eyes pinned her against the headboard. "I'm offerin' my protection. You'd be under my care, live in my cabin, help me with my work, sleep in my bed-" he paused, "-and I'll make sure you find pleasure there." The absolute confidence of his words made her shiver. "In return, I'll protect you, keep you safe, make sure you have whatcha need and when I can, I'll make sure a few nice things come your way when a new shipment of supplies comes in."

Jean was a little surprised by his blunt proposal. On one hand, it sounded rather cold, but other the other hand, she understood time was of the essence and he wanted her to know exactly what he expected from her and what he was willing to provide in return. "I appreciate your honesty."

Logan shrugged. "I'm a simple man. Don't need much. Never have." His expression grew more intense. "What I'm offerin' is simple. I meet your needs and you meet mine." He looked at her pointedly. "All of 'em." He paused. "I won't hurt ya, but I won't be denied. You get me?"

Jean nodded mutely. She was glad for his directness. She hated going into a situation blindly. "And after one season? What about marriage? Children?"

Her concerns were valid, and she had every right to expect those things from him. Women were in high demand and they could afford to be choosy. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His honor demanded he tell her the whole truth and she could decide accordingly.

"I ain't lookin' for anythin' permanent."

She considered his words carefully before responding. "Maybe not, but people change. A year is a long time. Is it so hard to believe we might develop... _feelings_ for each other after all those months together?" She was unwilling to believe there was no chance for something permanent between them.

_Fuck_.

She still didn't get it. In all honesty, he understood her desire for something more permanent, but it just wasn't possible in this case and the hopeful note in her voice disturbed him. He might not want forever with her, but he didn't want to hurt her either. He wasn't that much of a cold, heartless bastard. He wanted their time together to be enjoyable for both of them, but he also wanted her to understand there could never be anything lasting between them. The position as his woman offered her many things she might not find elsewhere, but marriage was not one of them. They both knew there were plenty of men in camp who would willingly offer her a more permanent arrangement. It was up to her to decide what she wanted more.

"I wantcha to be absolutely clear on this, Jeannie." He held her gaze intently. "I ain't offerin' forever. Only couple of years at most. No gettin' hitched. No kids. I can't." Absently, he touched the empty spot on his chest where his tags usually hung. "My heart belongs to someone else."

His gaze never wavered. He didn't elaborate and she didn't ask. Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Jean had a lot of questions. The woman who held his heart, who was she? More to the point, _where_ was she? Why wasn't she with him? She'd asked a few questions about him while she was eating in the dining hall. Was she the one who'd died last winter? Someone else? Would she be coming to the camp sometime in the future? Is that why he wouldn't offer her forever? Regardless of all the questions floating around in her mind, there was only one she really wanted the answer to.

"Do you love her?"

_Do I love her?_ Hell, he didn't even know her. She was still a child. "She's mine," he said simply.

Jean was a little surprised by his answer. He hadn't said he was in love with this mystery woman. Maybe she had a shot after all. Men could be fickle creatures, too, when it suited them. Deliberately, she rose from the bed and closed the distance between them, coming to stand between his parted knees. She could feel the heat of his body in the small space. His purely masculine presence was overwhelming. Beside him, she felt small and feminine, but she was aware of the power she had to affect him. His body hummed with barely leashed desire.

Despite the blatant invitation in both her scent and in the gentle sway of her hips, he managed to keep his hands off of her. If he started touching her, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He could hear her heart beat, hear the rush of blood, of fire through her veins. As if her thoughts echoed his, she raised her hand and touched one finger to the pulse beating strongly in the hollow of his throat. Under her fingertip, he pulsed with strength and life. Slowly she let her fingertip trail lower... his chest, his tight stomach...

He stopped her downward descent at his belt buckle and caught her hand in his. "Don't play games with me, Red... It's dangerous." Without breaking eye contact, he turned her hand over and stroked his tongue over the inside of her wrist. "I can tell you ain't as experienced as you're pretendin' to be." Not that he'd mind teaching her, but he was far too old and far too experienced to be swayed by her clumsy seduction.

He lowered her wrist without releasing it and met her eyes. "My protection. My conditions. Yes or no?"

Her verbal agreement was simply a formality at this point. Her scent and body language had already told him exactly what her answer would be. Regardless of that fact, he wanted to hear it from her lips. He brushed the rough pad of his thumb over the damp skin on the inside of her wrist, waiting for her to speak. He knew the touch was distracting. He'd meant it to be.

"What- What about meeting the others?" Her voice was husky and low. It sounded strange in her ears and butterflies fluttered wildly inside her even as he made her skin burn.

His eyes narrowed. "I don't share." He growled the words and his fingers tightened on her wrist. "I told you I'd only make the offer once. Women are in short supply. You gotta right to pick someone else if you wanna. Someone who can give you more'n me. Kids. Love. It's up to you." He paused, watching her intently. "So what's it gonna be, baby? 'Cause I'm gonna walk outta this room with an answer, like it or not."

He was a proud man. She would pick him now or not at all.

Aware her position as his woman would afford her a little leeway, she smiled mischievously at him. "Do you always get your way?"

"Always." His hazel stare dropped from her mouth to her breasts before meeting her eyes once again. "In _all_ things." There was no mistaking the sexual heat in his words. "Now answer the fuckin' question." He had a camp to run and a new daughter to settle in.

Jean's expression was thoughtful as she weighed her options.

Logan hated that even now when he should only be focused on Jean, Marie was still in his thoughts. What would she think about this arrangement? It made him feel guilty for needing adult companionship and physical release, but what was the alternative? A decade of celibacy was ridiculous, especially with the animal in him so close to the edge. His blood ran too hot. There wouldn't be anything left of the man for Marie to claim in a decade if he didn't take a bit of comfort while he could.

"I accept your offer of protection." She paused at the expectant look on his face. "And the conditions that come with it," she added grudgingly.

A feral light lit his eyes and he wet his lips with the overwhelming desire to taste her skin. He crushed down the urge to put his mouth on her and leave irrefutable proof to every man who looked at her that this woman had already been claimed.

Unaware of how close he was to taking what was now rightfully his, Jean smiled playfully at him. "Happy now?"

He stood up and raked her body with his eyes. "Not yet, honey." He pointedly ran one long blunt finger down her throat before he turned to go. "But ask me again in two nights after we've completed the claimin'." A truly wicked smile touched his sensual mouth, "And see if I don't have a different answer for you."

She followed him to the door. It was a mistake. He turned abruptly and took her mouth in a searing kiss that left her knees weak and her breath coming in shallow pants. He caught her chin in his fingers and brought her eyes up to his. He pulled her tighter against him, fitting her against his erection and lowered his mouth to her ear.

"It's been too damn long. I can't promise I'll be gentle or slow." His low growl vibrated against her and she could feel his breath, hot against her neck. "But I can promise you'll enjoy it every bit as much as I will."

He nipped her neck both in anticipation of the pleasure to come and as a reminder of who was in charge. Without another word, he turned her loose and vanished through the door before she could even catch her breath or think of a suitable retort.

In the hall, Logan shook his head. Instead of elation, he felt guilt and something uncomfortably close to shame.

He should be stronger. But he wasn't. He wasn't some superhero.

He was just a man alone on the edge of the darkness, waiting for a little girl to bring the light.


	7. Truth and Fire

**Truth and Fire**

_Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? Nescio, sed fiero sentio et excrucior. _  
I hate and I love. You ask me how this can be? I don't know. I only know that I feel it and it hurts.

Outside Jean's room, Logan regained his tenuous control over his body. The guilt helped. The sharp twinge of shame just made him feel like a bastard, but there would be time enough to appease the primal urges of his body later. Right now, he needed to get Kitty settled. He owed it to Scott. He'd never taken care of a child before and the responsibility of not only protecting her, but raising her as well, weighed heavily upon him. He could not afford to lose Scott to the darkness. The world couldn't afford that. Honestly, he had no idea how to raise a daughter, but he figured treating her the same way he'd want Scott to treat Marie was probably a pretty good way to start.

Logan might have gained control of his baser impulses, but his body was still making itself heard. Loudly. He looked down and adjusted himself with a grimace. _Shit_. He couldn't go talk to the kid like this. Cursing colorfully under his breath, he headed downstairs to get a cup of coffee. Truthfully, all physical matters aside, he could use a few minutes to gather his thoughts. He was not looking forward to having this talk with Kitty.

Conversation had never been his strong suit. He was a man of deep emotions, but he much preferred actions to words. When he did have something to say, it was usually blunt and to the point. He had a tendency to order rather than explain, and to disregard feelings in favor of words that got his point across as clearly and concisely as possible.

Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to do any of those things in this situation. His terse style might be fine with his friends who expected it, or with his subordinates and strangers, but it would definitely not be okay with a ten-year-old girl. He wanted to get things off on the right foot. He wanted her to trust him. They would be sharing each other's lives for the better part of a decade. The man who'd been alone all his life suddenly had a family and it shook him. He didn't make commitments lightly and when he did throw down, he went all in.

Not only was he going to have to talk to her about some serious subjects, he was going to have to find a way to do it gently... not to mention finding a way to tell her without her resenting him or hating him outright. Logan sighed heavily. He wasn't sure how much she knew about the situation – if anything – but he knew he was going to have to tell her straight up about being claimed by Scott. There was simply no other way around it. If she was to live with him for the next eight years, he would not start things out between them with a lie. It was imperative she trust him and that trust would be destroyed if she found out down the line he'd been keeping something of that magnitude from her.

Inwardly, he swore again and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. His life was considerably more complicated than it had been this morning. He stewed about it a little while longer before he got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He returned to his chair and sat down heavily. A part of him resisted the changes, preferring to go with what was familiar, but another part, a larger part, understood that he needed the distraction, needed something to fill his days and nights so that the darkness wouldn't claim him before Marie was ready.

Before he could finish his second cup, John found him. Logan knew the kid was dying for an explanation, but he also knew John was smart enough not to ask for one. The kid could read him pretty well. He liked John - and not just because he did his job with an efficiency and a thoroughness that was astounding. Honestly, he didn't know how Pyro managed. Logan was a harsh taskmaster at times and he knew he asked for a lot, but John always managed to accomplish what needed to be done with the minimum amount of fuss. Sometimes he broke the rules to do so, but they sort of had their own 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. Occasionally, Logan would order the impossible and John would somehow make it happen - provided nobody questioned his methods. Logan figured he was better off not knowing. The kid was loyal and trustworthy and a damn fine friend, to boot.

Logan swallowed the last of the hot bitter brew and gestured for John to sit. A quick glare and a curt jerk of his head cleared the room of its other occupants, three men drinking coffee and talking quietly while they warmed up after a long shift in the cold weather. They picked up their mugs and heavy coats and filed silently from the room, closing the door after them. Nobody refused a direct order from the Wolverine, verbal or otherwise.

Logan listened a moment, satisfied they were out of earshot before he took pity on John and decided to explain to him how come he'd chosen to have Kitty live with him instead of at the lodge. God knew the questions would come when he took two of the newcomers to his private cabin and shared that he'd claimed a third. Most men didn't even have a woman and now it would appear that he had two with a third in the wings. That wasn't going to go over well. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wishing for a cigar. He didn't smoke them inside, not with all the kids in here. He might have a healing factor but they didn't. He snorted. It never stopped him from wanting one, though.

Logan settled himself deeper into the chair, watching John's expectant face intently. Finally he spoke. "The little one, Shadowcat - she's Scott's." He watched as John's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline and his mouth hung open a second before a wide grin split his youthful face.

"Shit." He smiled wider. "He finally... ? Shit!" John sat back in the chair. "That's great news, man, just great." Even though he was happy for Scott, a small part of him was jealous. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever find a woman of his own. "I'm glad he found her. He's been looking a long time. Almost as long as yo-" He broke off abruptly, aware he was treading on dangerous ground and instantly ashamed he'd been jealous. He'd only been looking a year - since he'd turned eighteen. Logan had been looking for seven.

Logan's jaw clenched and then relaxed again. He might as well tell the kid the rest of it. He'd know soon enough anyway, when he stopped screening new arrivals for a potential mate. "And I ain't lookin' anymore, either," he said flatly.

This time, no exclamations were forthcoming. John only stared in shock. His mouth opened and closed a few times before his brain caught up with it. Where? How? _Who?_ He didn't know where to start. He had so many questions, but he wasn't sure which one to ask first or even which ones he _should_ ask. Logan was an intensely private man. John wasn't blind or stupid and he'd seen the way Logan looked at Jean. To be fair, he'd also looked at her that way himself. She was incredibly attractive, but he didn't think she was the type Logan would choose to spend forever with. John opened his mouth to ask, but Logan cut him off.

"No, it ain't Jean." Logan frowned. He didn't like the heat in John's eyes when he mentioned Jean. _Fuck that_. He'd settle this right here, right now. He leaned forward menacingly and said very clearly, "I don't share, kid. Jean ain't for you."

Not for him? Just what the fuck did that mean? Anger spiked hotly inside him. John could understand his possessiveness if Jean was the one he'd chosen, but Logan had just finished telling him it _wasn't_ Jean. It didn't make sense. He could feel the heat building dangerously under his skin. What gave Logan the right to warn him off an unclaimed woman? He might be the boss, but he wasn't God.

Color suffused John's cheeks even as his eyes flashed with anger. Logan fought the impulse to bare his teeth and snarl at the kid. _Jesus_. He needed to get a grip. He hated talking about this kind of shit. This situation was a perfect example of how a few blunt words meant to get right to the heart of the matter could have a totally unintended effect. He didn't want to piss the kid off, just warn him off. _Shit_. If he couldn't manage this, talking to Kitty was going to be even harder than he imagined. Logan buried that thought and turned his attention back to John.

"Ease off, Pyro."

_Fuck_. If anything, the heat in John's eyes grew hotter. Executive officer and friend or not, he was still a man - and a man who had yet to find a mate. Logan understood the kid's frustration all too well. John didn't have a woman and now it looked as if Logan had two. He'd cut the kid some slack, but he wasn't going to let the challenge go unanswered. John knew his place and he damn well better stay in it or he'd put him there the hard way, friend or not.

"Don't push me. It's dangerous." The quiet reprimand had the desired effect and John backed down a little. It was enough to appease the animal inside of him - for now, anyway. Logan knew he had to tread carefully. He didn't want to humiliate the kid. His friends were few and far between and he didn't want any bad blood between them because of this. The hard edge left his voice. "I know it ain't fair."

John's blue eyes met his. Logan caught a glimpse of the surprise in them before the kid managed to hide it. No doubt he'd been expecting something more along the lines of 'don't fuck with me or you'll be sorry'.

"Shit. I'm sorry, boss."

"Don't worry 'bout it, kid. Happens to all of us." He grunted. "And I know it's hard."

There was a long moment of tense silence before John exploded.

"This whole situation fucking sucks!" Logan was a little surprised by his fierce outburst. He knew the kid was a deep thinker, but he was usually pretty easy going. It was clear he needed to blow off a little steam. Better with him than someone else. At least this way, nobody would get hurt. "I fucking _hate_ this!"

Logan said nothing, waiting for him to continue. He had a feeling the kid was a long way from being finished.

"I fucking _hate_ what they did to us, hate that they killed us like dogs and slaughtered our women."

Logan watched without flinching as John manifested a ball of white-hot flame and crushed it out in his fist. It was dangerous, but he let it slide. It was equivalent to him popping his claws when he was really pissed about something, and he knew the kid needed some kind of outlet for all the rage and frustration he felt. Abruptly, the logs in the cold, dark fireplace burst into flames, roaring loudly. Logan could feel the heat bleeding off John in waves. He'd never seen him like this before - frustrated, angry and on the edge of losing control.

"I hate fighting every day for a scrap of peace. I hate trying to make something out of nothing. I hate watching the others with their women. I hate jacking off alone in a cold bed every goddamn night. I hate being nineteen and a virgin. I hate knowing I'll probably be one next year and the year after that and the year after that." His voice broke.

There were tears in John's eyes now and Logan could tell he was winding down. The flames in the fireplace had dwindled to normal proportions and his shoulders had slumped in defeat.

"I hate being alone." He finished quietly, and ruddy color rose on his cheeky as he wiped angrily at his wet eyes.

Logan could see he was embarrassed by his outburst, but he also knew that until the kid found someone, the only comfort and understanding he'd get was from his friends. They all broke down sooner or later, and it took a big man to admit such deep pain to someone else. It was ingrained in them from the time they were children that they should be strong no matter what - that they should be able to shoulder whatever came their way without complaint and without needing help.

It was also a load of crap.

Nobody could be expected to deal with it all on their own. Men who tried were crushed under the weight of the burden they carried. They all needed someone. Even him. An image of a small dark-haired child flashed in his mind. Without conscious thought, his hand stole to his breast pocket and touched the scarf Marie had given him only a few hours ago. Just knowing that she was out there, that someday they'd be together, soothed his tired, ragged soul like nothing else.

Logan took a deep breath and put a hand on John's shoulder. "You think I don't feel all that shit?"

Startled blue eyes met his, but Logan continued. "You think you're the only one who wantsta kill every last human for what they didta us? That you're the only man tired of gettin' off alone in the dark? You think you're the only one who dreams about havin' someone to share his life with?"

Logan squeezed his shoulder once and let him go. "That shit's on all of us." He shook his head. "Don't be worried 'till ya stop hatin' and stop dreamin' and go numb inside." He grinned, but the smile didn't touch his eyes. "Until then, you can suffer along with the rest of us and know that we might hate doin' it, but we all gotta lean on someone when it getsta be too much to handle."

John nodded and looked away. When he looked back, Logan could tell he was once again in control. "You know, you're a real asshole."

Logan grinned, understanding what John couldn't and wouldn't say. "You're welcome, kid." The smile faded. "And you're right. The situation does suck." He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. "Yeah, I ain't lookin' anymore and yeah, I found her." He met John's curious eyes. "But that don't make everythin' sunshine and roses." He looked away and his next words were quiet. "She's younger than Shadowcat."

"Fuck." John whistled softly. The man who'd already waited seven years was going to have to wait nearly another decade? That fucking sucked. Logan's odd possessiveness over Jean was beginning to make sense. "That sucks."

He meant that. It did suck. At the same time, it wasn't fair that Logan had found his mate and was still going to go ahead and claim Jean anyway. That sucked too. He could challenge Logan for the right to claim Jean, but he knew who'd win that fight and then he'd never have a shot at anything with Jean. Maybe he'd just sit on his feelings a while. Wait it out. See what happened down the road a little.

Logan's voice was tight. "I saw ya lookin' at her and I know it ain't fair, but I really don't give a fuck." His voice grew quiet, but didn't lose its hard edge. "I told ya we all need someone to lean on when it gets bad." He paused. "If I don't lean some on Jean, I ain't gonna make it 'till Rogue's eighteen. The darkness is too close. I'm already slippin'." He hated sharing that weakness, but he knew he had to if John was going to understand and accept his claim on Jean. "You startin' to get the picture, bub?"

John nodded. He was also realizing that Jean wouldn't be Logan's forever. He wisely kept that realization to himself. Challenging the Wolverine once was dangerous enough. Twice in the same day was suicide. Friend or not, Logan was too possessive, too animalistic to push in such a way. He couldn't resist asking about it though. Jean didn't seem like the type to accept anything less than forever. She wasn't stupid. She knew her own worth.

"Does Jean know?"

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Know what? That it ain't forever?" He growled an affirmation. "Yeah, she knows. Don't like it none, but I told her straight up it wasn't gonna be permanent." He pinned John with a stare. "She doesn't know 'bout me findin' Rogue though." He rubbed his knuckles in warning. "And she's not gonna know 'bout that 'till I'm good and ready and Rogue's had a chance to grow up a little." He knew all too well how catty women could be. Rogue needed time to come into her own first. To gain her own power as a woman. "You get me?"

John nodded again. He wasn't happy with the situation, but he wasn't on the verge of violence over it any longer. Somehow he hadn't imagined Logan needing anyone to lean on. That had shaken him, at least enough for him to accept the situation.

"Yeah, I get you." He sighed heavily, acutely aware nothing he said would make any difference at this point so he changed the subject. "So where is she?" He asked out of more than simple curiosity. If the Wolverine's mate was coming here, he would need to prepare.

"I sent her to Scott." Logan could see the question in John's eyes and grunted. His possessiveness was legendary. He took care of his own. The kid obviously didn't get why he'd send someone so important to him away to be raised by someone else. "There's the man who tucks her inta bed and the man who takes her to bed." He met John's eyes with a piercing stare. "Which one of those do you think I wanna be?"

John sucked in his breath sharply. "Shit." He paused as another realization struck him. "That's why Shadowcat's here, isn't it?"

Logan grinned. "Yeah, Slim's dick would probably never work again if she called him 'daddy'." He didn't add that his probably wouldn't either if he ever heard that word coming from Marie's mouth directed at him.

He wanted to be a lot of things to Marie; protector, friend, confidante, husband, lover... the list was long, but it didn't include 'father' and it never would.

John laughed, well aware of Logan's propensity for taking pot shots at Scott whenever the opportunity presented itself. "Does she know?" He paused. "Do either of them know?"

Logan shook head. "I dunno 'bout Rogue. I gave her the tags-" He ignored John's swift intake of air at that revelation. "-But she's eight. I told her she's mine, but who the fuck knows what goes on in a little girl's head?" Thank God that was Scott's problem now. He'd worry about it later. Right now he had to deal with explaining it to Kitty. "And Shadowcat's gonna know 'bout it just as soon as you tell me where ya stashed her."

John just smiled. He didn't envy the Wolverine that conversation.

Not one little bit.


	8. Striking a Deal

**Striking a Deal**

_Omnium rerum principia parva sunt. _  
Everything has a small beginning.

Logan nodded inwardly as he climbed the third flight of stairs. John was smart for stashing Kitty on the staff floor. In fact, the kid had given her the temporary use of his own room while he saw to Jean and Storm. Logan was thankful for his quick thinking. It was all but deserted up here this time of day. Not only would Kitty be safe here, but there were no other kids her age on this floor for her to talk with. Thank God for small favors. Logan wanted to explain things without anyone else's words clouding her mind.

He stopped outside John's door and knocked sharply. He didn't immediately go in the way he had with Jean. Kitty was to be Scott's mate, and regardless of her youth, he'd give her the respect she deserved. She would be a powerful woman someday and in his experience, women tended to have long memories.

Her answer, though rough with sleep, came almost immediately. "Come in."

Logan stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Like Jean, she'd showered and dressed in new clothes before indulging in a nap. She'd also washed out her old clothes and they were hanging damply over the back of John's chair. Her resourcefulness pleased him and he grinned as he tossed her damp clothes on the desk before dragging the chair over beside the bed. He sat down and made himself as comfortable as he could while he steeled himself for the coming conversation.

"Sorry to wake ya, half-pint, but I need to talk to you 'bout a few things." He smiled, thinking that she was kinda cute with her too big eyes and short, mussed hair framing her heart-shaped face. She was too skinny and too pale by half, but some good food would fix that up soon enough. He was just about to open his mouth when she spoke first.

"Is this about Scott?" For the first time since he'd met her, she sounded uncertain.

_Jesus_. What was it with these girls? First Storm and now Kitty. He didn't know what surprised him more - that she knew what he wanted to talk to her about or that she knew Scott's name. He'd had his fill of all-seeing and all-knowing women already today. He'd like some answers for a change.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You seem to know lotsa interestin' things, kid."

Kitty shrugged. "I hear things."

Logan's nostrils flared and he grinned. _I don't think so, darlin'_. "Try again, half-pint." He knew the wind wasn't bringing anything to _her_ ears. What the hell?

She fidgeted under his intense scrutiny and looked away. She rubbed the end of her nose and sat back against the wall, clearly wishing he hadn't put her on the spot. She twined a lock of hair around one slender finger before she became eerily still in that odd way of hers.

"Hank has a bad habit of making detailed notes."

Logan suppressed a grin. It wasn't an admission... but it wasn't a lie either. He had to hand it to her; she was pretty good at saying something without _actually_ saying it, and doing it without implicating herself - definitely a useful skill and one that required both intelligence and wit. He appreciated both. Logan swallowed a chuckle. That habit would drive a man like Scott completely around the bend. He preferred direct answers as much Logan did, and unlike Logan, he didn't esteem such shadowy talents.

At least not publicly.

Scott had been known to bend a rule or two in his day. Truth be told, he still did. The difference was while Logan had flagrantly defied the rules and done whatever he damn well pleased without a care who knew it, Scott had just been better about not getting caught. It gave him the outward impression of being a 'Boy Scout', but in reality, he was just as devious as Logan, and in truth, more prone to breaking the rules outright.

_Goddamn sneaky bastard_.

This time, Logan did chuckle. It took a hell of a lot to put one over on him and Scott had done it on more than one occasion.

Back when the rules of the world had still meant something, Logan just didn't give a shit about them where as Scott occasionally liked to defy them, just for the hell of it. Underage drinking. Driving too fast. 'Borrowing' from Charles' impressive stable of vintage automobiles. Dubious carnal pursuits. Playing practical jokes. Once Logan had come back from an extended mission to find his room transformed into a glittering fairy princess empire, right down to the bubblegum colored walls, a pink satin bedspread and sparkling voile curtains. _Motherfucker. _The pink had been so bright it all but seared his retinas.

Still chuckling, he flashed Kitty a grin. So she knew Hank kept 'detailed notes', did she? This kid was just full of surprises.

"Yeah?" Logan knew all about Hank's note keeping. He also knew that Hank kept those 'detailed notes' encrypted on his laptop behind a secure firewall and a couple of passwords that - knowing Hank - probably weren't even in English. "I'm still waitin', kid."

Kitty flushed and stared at the floor. "I, um... He-" She picked some invisible lint from her jeans and then grinned. Hey, if she was going to confess, she might as well enjoy it. "He made the mistake of leaving me alone with his laptop." Her words came out in a rush, but under the embarrassment, Logan could clearly hear the pride in her voice. Hell, if she could crack _that_ encryption, she had a right to be arrogant. Scott was going to shit a brick sideways when he found out... and then he'd be unbearably smug at his mate's prowess with all things technical. God, he could just picture the smirk now.

"How long'd it take ya?"

Kitty met his eyes and grinned. "Too long."

"Get caught?"

Kitty looked affronted he'd even suggest such a thing. "Nope."

"Good." Logan chuckled. God, he was going to enjoy telling Scott about that. "I like resourcefulness." He grinned wider. "Just don't fuck with anythin' of mine and we won't have a problem."

"I'll try."

Her words were so sincere that he couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter that escaped. Hell, at least she was honest. He had to respect that. Logan wondered if Marie was going to give Scott this much trouble. He sure as hell hoped so.

"So what exactly did ya find out?" He was glad that he probably wouldn't have to explain everything, but he wasn't at all sure having her know _all_ the details was a good thing. She was only ten, after all. He suddenly had the urge to wring Hank's neck for being so damn verbose. Couldn't he just keep all that shit in his head the way the rest of them did?

Kitty's voice was soft, but not hesitant. "I know Scott wanted you to raise me... but I'm not really sure why and I know he was worried you might not want to." She broke off and looked away. "I know he thought it was important you meet Rogue and that she's..." her voice grew even softer. "...you know….a prime."

Kitty shrugged. "That's as far as I got. I only had about ten minutes. It took most of that time just to get to the files." She mumbled something under her breath that sounded a whole lot like 'stupid Latin passwords.'

"That stuff you read - all that's true." Logan tilted the chair back on two legs and put his foot up on the bedrail. "But there's other stuff too. Stuff I wantcha to know 'bout before you come to live with me." He shifted uncomfortably, unsure exactly where to begin.

"Your face looks kinda funny." Ah, the blunt honesty of youth. "The stuff you want to tell me... it's not bad is it?" Anxiety colored her scent now and he cursed inwardly.

_Way to go, bub_.

He was already scaring her and he hadn't even started yet. He just knew this was going to go badly. "Nah, it ain't bad. I'm just no good at talkin' 'bout this kinda stuff."

Kitty's face turned red. "Oh, God. It isn't about sex, is it?"

Logan choked. "Christ, kid." He coughed to clear his throat and rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. "No, it ain't 'bout sex." He should have had whiskey earlier, not coffee. Unfortunately, he was all too aware that no amount of alcohol would make this discussion any easier. "It's about the future. Mine. Yours. Scott's. Even Rogue's."

"What about it?"

Logan could tell he'd piqued her interest. She was a sharp kid-inquisitive and nosy as hell, but in a good way.

"Lotsa things." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he readied himself for the coming conversation. "You know how there's not a lot of women anymore-" That was a good starting place. All mutants were aware of that sad fact. They were on the edge of extinction. He waited until she nodded before continuing. "-and you know us men who are left, we try real hard to find someone we can love who'll love us back over the long haul." A simplified version of the truth to be sure, but good enough for this conversation. Hopefully.

"Yeah." She looked at him expectantly.

"Well, it's even harder for men like Scott and me." He smiled. "'Cause first off, we ain't much to look at." He winked at her and she giggled. "And we're real grumpy and hard to live with sometimes, too." He watched her nod slowly. "But we're different than other men 'cause we gotta find someone who'll not only put up with us and all our shit- uh, crap, but someone who'll also work real hard helpin' us run our camps." He made sure she was still following along. "That's real rewardin' work, but it ain't easy, and lots of times it ain't real fun even though it feels real good to help people. To provide for 'em and keep 'em safe."

A small wrinkle formed on her forehead as she digested that. "Yeah, I can see how that would be hard."

Logan shot her a smile before his face grew serious again. "See, the reason Scott wanted me to meet Rogue was 'cause he thought she might be a good match for me when she's all grown up."

"Really?" He nodded. "Will she?"

"Yeah, half-pint, she will."

"How did you know?"

He thought about that a minute. How had he known?

"I dunno. She was just…. right. Smelled right. Felt right. Fiery and brave but sweet underneath. I dunno, exactly," he repeated. "She just felt like mine."

Kitty seemed to accept that.

"Why'd you send her away then?"

Logan ran a hand through his hair as he searched for the words. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He couldn't tell her it was because he didn't want Marie's view of him to be colored with paternal overtones. That when she was ready, he wanted her to think about him like a lover not a father.

"'Cause she's gotta be someone else's little girl before she can be my wife." He hoped to God that would be good enough.

"That makes sense. She can't be your little girl and then your wife. That's- that would be weird." Weird and icky. She wrinkled up her nose.

"You said it, kid."

Her brows drew together and she was quiet a long moment. "Is that why I'm here? So I can be your little girl before I'm someone else's wife?" Her eyes got really round as it all clicked into place for her. "Scott's wife? That's it, isn't it? That's why he wanted you to take care of me."

Logan nodded. "Yeah, that's about the size of it." He lowered the chair back to the ground and leaned forward. "Me and Scott, we've been lookin' a long time for someone as special as you and Rogue-"

"I don't feel special. I feel... well, scared and alone and uncertain and kind of pissed that nobody asked me how I felt about it." She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I don't want to be his wife?"

Logan shrugged. "That's somethin' between you and him, honey. Somethin' for you two to work out when you're older." He didn't mention that Scott wouldn't let her go any more than he'd let Marie go. They were simply too precious and he and Scott were much too close to the darkness.

He ignored Kitty's snort. She needed to understand his motives. She needed to trust him. "I'll tell it to ya straight up. Best I can figure it, I gotta teach ya everythin' I know 'bout runnin' a camp and how to stand real strong on your own two feet so when the time comes for you to have that talk with Scott, you'll be able to hold your own real good. Tell him what you want and how you feel and not take any shit offa him." He didn't add that he'd also teach her about duty and honor and sacrifice and a hundred other things she'd need as Scott's wife and a future leader. Things that would make her more inclined to chose that life.

"I like that idea."

He kind of figured she would. The more he talked with her, the more he liked her. She was intelligent, resourceful and she thought for herself. Those were important qualities in a leader. She also wasn't afraid to bend the rules or to break them when necessary - and that appealed to him personally. He wasn't exactly a saint himself, and he'd been on the wrong side of the law more than once, but he had a strict code of honor and he could tell she did as well. She hadn't lied to him even when it would have made things easier for herself.

"Good."

"You're not just like going to send me away to a stranger the second I turn eighteen, right? I don't know him. I don't know anything about him. I didn't even know his name until I read Hank's notes." She remembered being a little in awe of him in Cyclops' presence. He was quiet. She hadn't noticed much beyond the visor and his air of absolute authority.

"No, I ain't gonna send you to someone you don't know. I toldya I'd look out for you and I will. But you got time. There are lotsa years for you to get to know him. If you wanna write him, you can. Hank makes the run between our camps a few times a year."

"Snail mail?"

He chuckled at the pained look on her face. "Computers aren't real reliable anymore and too easy to trace. We don't use 'em much for that."

Kitty sniffed in distain. She'd get right on that. "But if I could figure something out?"

"If it's safe and don't put anyone at risk, then yeah."

"Good." She could live with that. It would give her something to do and a goal to work towards.

"Even with the letters, I'll be sure you get a chance to meet him at least once face to face before you're eighteen, okay? I'm not gonna send any kid of mine to a stranger. I'll give you that much at least."

"I- thank you."

"You bet." He could see she was beginning to relax slightly but she still smelled a little scared. "And you don't gotta be scared anymore either. I'm gonna take care of you real good. Keep you safe. Teach you how to keep yourself safe, too."

She considered that, those butane blue eyes piercing and sharp.

"I'd- I'd like that. I like you."

"Back atcha."

His mouth turned up at the corners. He could tell they were going to get into plenty of trouble together in the future. Logan grinned wider. Scott needed someone with a little fire... and he knew he was going to take an obscene amount of pleasure in telling Scott about all the things they'd done together that he'd never approve of. At least not publicly.

Kitty had been silent for some time. Her unnatural stillness seemed even more strange to him with his predatory instincts. It was very odd for a child - for anyone - to be that still. She moved like a shadow. He wondered, not for the first time, what kind of mutation she would manifest and when and how it would happen. He crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chair back again.

"You got any questions, half-pint?" He was probably going to regret asking that, but he did it anyway. It was important she feel comfortable with him and it was even more important that she trust him.

"What am I supposed to call you?"

"Wolverine." A teasing light lit his eyes. "Except when we're alone. Then you can call me Logan."

She scrunched up her nose and looked at him intently. "You look like a Logan." He also noticed that she neither confirmed nor denied she already knew his name. Considering what notes she managed to read, she probably already knew it. _Sneaky little thing. Heh_. Her teenage years were going to be hellish. Entertaining, but hellish just the same.

"Yeah?" She nodded and he chuckled a minute before he grew serious. "Look, kid, I know you've been through a lot. I know that you lost both your parents to the virus - that's why I didn't tell ya to call me dad. You already got a dad and I couldn't ever take his place. I wouldn't even try."

"Thanks." Her voice was soft and he could see she was fighting tears.

"I know things will probably be tough in the beginning - us livin together, I mean, but I promise you this - I'll do my best to keep ya safe and to raise ya best I can. I won't ever lie to ya, even if the truth is scary, and I expect the same outta you. I can't promise I won't ever get mad 'cause I gotta bad temper and I'm pretty short on patience most of the time, but no matter what, I won't ever hurtcha and as long as I'm breathin', I'll make sure nobody else will either."

Logan stuck his hand out. "So half-pint, we gotta deal?" He smiled inwardly when she thought about it before taking his large hand in her smaller one and giving it a firm shake.

"Deal."

"Good."

"So what happens now?"

"Well, you'll be comin' to stay with me up at my cabin. It's smaller than this place. More quiet. You'll have your own room. It'll take time, but I wantcha to feel like it's your place just as much as mine. Like a family, you know? That's what I want for us, kid."

"That sounds nice. Good, even."

"Glad to hear it. I wantcha to feel comfortable. To be able to talk to me about anythin'."

"I'll try."

"Me too." She was looking at him again, curious and a little shy. "Do you live alone?" That earned her a raised eyebrow.

"I live alone right now. It's been that way for a long time but Jeannie's gonna be comin' to stay with us for a while too."

"Like me?"

"Nah. Not like that. You and me- we're family now and that's gonna last as long as I'm breathin', kid. Even after you go to Scott's camp, if that's what you choose to do, we'll always be that to each other." It really wasn't her choice, but she was only ten. Some truths could wait and he'd raise her right. Raise her to understand duty and honor. "I only want one daughter and it's you, half-pint. Jean'll be stayin' with me in my room."

"Oh." Kitty thought about that for a minute. "Oh!" Her face flushed.

"Yeah." Because, really? What else could he say to that?

"But-"

"I know. What about Rogue, right? If she's mine and gonna be my wife, why take Jeannie home? That's what you wanna know, ain't it?"

"Yeah. That doesn't seem right."

It didn't really feel right either, but he couldn't tell the kid he was riding the edge of the darkness a little too close. He needed the breathing room that would come with sharing a bed and sharing time with another adult, but Kitty needed to trust him and not think of him as some beast on the edge of snapping.

"I know. You're right, there. It ain't real honorable. I admit that. It's just that sometimes there is no good choice. No easy way to get from point A to point B." He sighed and let his shoulders drop a little. He was so tired. So very tired of struggling against the tide every day on his own without a scrap of softness or peace. "But I've been alone a long time, Kitty. I just need a little break from that for a while. Not too long. Couple of years then it'll just be us again."

"A couple of years seems like forever to me."

"Course it does. You're a kid." And she didn't heal. God only knew how old he was. "Time- it's different for me. I heal. I don't age. I could be older than dirt."

She giggled. "Really?"

"Yep. Claws. Healin' and enhanced senses, too. Hearing. Scent. That kinda stuff."

"No wonder you like to live alone."

Sharp little thing. Not much got by her.

"Yeah. This thing with Jean, I just need that for a little while. Then it'll just be you and me for the long haul."

"Until I leave."

"Yeah. Until then."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I'm ten. Rogue's eight. If I go to Scott when I'm eighteen, you'll be alone for two more years before Scott sends Rogue to you."

"Yeah." He was very aware of that. Those last two years, those would be the worst. Alone. Bereft. He could already tell the loss of Kitty would be a keen hole in his heart. He'd taken a shine to her from the start. And there would be no more women to ease him in the wake of her departure. Not so close to claiming Rogue. He wouldn't do that to her. Those last two years…. They scared him. Those would be his darkest hours and he hoped that whatever good things he found with Kitty would help bolster him for the dark times ahead; that the warmth of family would help carry him through. "It ain't gonna be a barrel of laughs, that's for damn sure."

"I can kinda see why you want someone to come stay in your room for a while."

"Thanks," he said simply.

"Hank will still be making the runs between the camps. I'll write to you. You won't be completely alone."

Her astute reading of the situation moved him.

"I'd like that a lot." He grinned at her, wanting to lighten the mood. "You got any other questions, kid?"

"Just one."

"Shoot."

"Did Hank have to bribe you with the cigars?"

His eyebrow rose in amusement. _Shit. She knew 'bout that?_ She sure was a sneaky little thing.

"Nah... Took ya way before I ever knew 'bout the cigars or the brandy, kid."

"Really?"

"Damn straight." He grinned. "Now grab your stuff and let's go home."

He watched while she gathered her things. Maybe living with her wouldn't be as hard as he thought. He liked her. Actually, to his way of thinking, it was simple. She was his, too. His to protect and raise and teach and care for until she grew up and she stopped being his and started being Scott's. He drew in a deep breath.

Suddenly, eight years didn't seem like quite such a long time after all.


	9. The Road Home

**The Road Home**

_Sine dolore est vulnus quod ferendum est cum victoria. _  
The wound which one must suffer in victory is painless.

Hank wove the truck and its precious cargo through the desolate, forested valleys that made up the last leg of their journey. So far, the return trip hadn't been too difficult. That worried him. Statistically speaking, the odds of making it back without incident were low. Exceptionally low. Actually, he'd already mentally calculated the odds and then promptly wished he hadn't. Seven hundred eight-four to one wasn't exactly reassuring.

His sharp eyes swept the road tirelessly. He could rest after the girls were safe. He'd made this trip countless times, but this part was always the worst. There were too many places to hide in the dense forest and the narrow winding road was a perfect place for an ambush. It was an effective deterrent, making the base that much easier to defend, but it was an exceedingly difficult drive. Although he knew all the roads here, even the ones not on any published maps, this part of the trip always made him uneasy.

Golden eyes narrowed as they caught sight of something up ahead. A large blue hand reached out and clicked off the radio - a signal to the girls riding in the back to be quiet and to listen for further instructions. His jaw tightened. There wasn't supposed to be a checkpoint here. Scott had all the roads leading in and out of the base swept regularly. Unfortunately, that meant this roadblock was new.

That did not bode well. Not well at all.

Hank began to take inventory, almost without conscious thought. Four trucks, fifteen men and three visible rifles. His trained eye picked them apart, looking for any weakness he could exploit. The trucks formed an ineffective blockade and the men were poorly organized. They were probably a band of vigilante militia rather than an Extermination Squad. He wasn't at all sure if that was better or worse. Extermination Squads tended to be tactically superior to militia, but at least they made quick, clean kills. Vigilante groups tended to like to torture their victims first. He suppressed a shudder and slowed his speed, not enough to alert them, but enough to give himself a few extra minutes to think.

Adrenaline rushed through Hank's massive body. They were still more than a hundred miles from the base's perimeter, from safety and from reinforcements. Even his emergency radio wouldn't work at this distance. It would be able to reach an air patrol if one was in the area, but unless Scott had changed the timetable - they would be flying over the southern perimeter of the base today and Hank was approaching from a northerly direction.

The fur on the back of his neck stood on end as he mentally reviewed and rejected all his options. He was out-manned, out-gunned, and he had two small children depending on him to keep them safe. He wasn't Rambo and this wasn't the movies. They weren't going to escape with a few well-aimed shots and some fancy driving. In fact, there was a good possibility they might not escape at all.

If he didn't have the children, he could ditch the truck and make his way to the base in a matter of days. He might be large, but he could move rapidly through the trees and his mutation made it possible to cover a lot of ground quickly. He'd done it before when he was alone and out of options, but unfortunately, that wouldn't work in this case. He was going to have to figure out something else.

He examined his options again, looking for something he missed, some detail that would increase their odds of survival. He could turn and run, in which case they would give chase - and with superior numbers, overpower them eventually. He could stop at the roadblock, be detained, interrogated, tortured and then murdered. Or he could attempt to run the roadblock and evade his pursuers until they were safely within the base's perimeter. He didn't even bother to calculate those odds. He might be a mutant, but he wasn't almighty.

His brain frantically turned the problem over and over as he approached the roadblock. Deception and then a hasty escape was their best chance. He sent a brief prayer skyward and then banged his fist on the wall behind the driver's seat. This wasn't the first time he'd given the three sharp knocks that meant the girls needed to hide themselves. It was however, the first time in his agitation, that his formidable strength had dented the thick green metal.

That in itself was telling.

"We are about to be stopped, little ones. We may be forced to evade capture." He kept his voice calm, even as he checked and holstered his weapon with practiced efficiency. "If it becomes necessary, my driving may become erratic. Please hang on as best you can. It will not be pleasant." An understatement to be sure. At best, they would be bruised. At worst, their small bodies could be crushed under the heavy steel drums that held their reserve gasoline if the jarring ride loosened the clamps that held them in place.

Marie and Jubilee did as they were told, scrambling to hide themselves in the compartments built just for that purpose. Marie disappeared first, hissing at Jubilee to hurry when she heard a thump and a curse before she felt the compartment beside her being jerked open. Inside one of the small black spaces, a tiny pair of hands clutched frantically at the small sliver of metal around her neck. Inside the other, there was the almost inaudible sound of tears and a small faint glow.

Up front, Hank wished again for his image inducer. It had been damaged on a previous run and there hadn't been time to repair it before making this unexpected trip. In any case, that would have been too easy. Real life didn't work that way. If the war and subsequent virus release had taught him anything, it was that any given situation was twenty percent what happened to you and eighty percent how you chose to respond to it. He had been in worse situations. Not many. But enough. Palming a grenade that was nearly invisible in his large hand, Hank rolled the window down and brought the vehicle to a stop.

He forced himself to appear docile, but he never stopped gathering information. His sharp eyes missed nothing. Yes, they were definitely militia. None of them held a weapon on him and none thought to check the back of the truck. It was entirely possible he was among the first of their victims. His eyes scanned the immediate area and bile rose in his throat. No, he wasn't the first victim. At the tree line, there was a man with green scales and a small child - or rather what was left of them - hanging upside down from a branch, like a deer ready to be skinned. His blood ran cold.

"Well lookee here, Davie. See what just pulled up. We got ourselves a real live mutie."

Davie shouldered his rifle and came to stand behind the man who had addressed Hank. The expression on his face clearly said that 'the real live mutie' wasn't going to be that way for long. He spat into the dirt. "You steal this truck when you escaped from one of the Holding Centers, mutie?"

Hank forced back his rising anger and instead committed every detail to memory. Fifteen men and four trucks - confirmed. And now he had visual confirmation of eight rifles and three pistols.

"Gentlemen, may I remind you the MRA and consecutive legislation has been repealed. It is no longer against the law for me to move about in public."

It was true. When humans realized Legacy had mutated, they repealed everything hoping that their show of 'kindness' would somehow protect them if the remaining mutants managed to gain power. It was a futile gesture and when they realized that, the last law they passed before congress was disbanded allowed for the formation of the Extermination Squads and gave them the authority to use whatever force they deemed necessary to eradicate the 'Mutant Threat.'

"It's only legal 'cause everyone who makes the laws is dead now." Also true. There weren't enough humans left gathered in one place to pass, let alone enforce, any type of legislation. Davie turned around and motioned for a few more men to come over. Apparently Hank's unusual size warranted some additional manpower. _Good. _Closer. He needed them closer. Unlike the Extermination Squads, they were reluctant to shoot him outright. They wanted him alive for whatever torture they had planned for later. A chilling possibility to think upon, but one that would ultimately work to his advantage if his luck held.

They moved a little closer and Hank smiled inwardly, thankful at least one thing was going his way. If he was lucky, the grenade he was holding would take out a third of them before he made his escape. Deliberately, he flashed a little fang, hoping to draw in a few more.

"Perhaps those same men would be alive today had they not chosen to release a bio-engineered virus that was clearly unstable."

"Well would ya listen ta that, man? He talks like he's some kinda goddamn Einstein." He cocked his head and sickeningly stroked the skinning knife on his belt with fingers that still had dried blood under the nails. "You think he's still gonna be so goddamn high and mighty when I'm-"

Davie never got a chance to finish his threat as Hank tossed the grenade and hit the gas. A trained soldier would have ducked for cover. Davie succumbed to the instinctive human response to catch the falling object. It had a four second delay. The forth elapsed about half a second after he dropped it. It went off at waist height, cutting them down like so much dead grass.

The kill radius was about five meters and though their truck was moving, it wasn't moving fast enough. Hank felt the vehicle shudder as shrapnel ripped through the canvas covering the back of the truck and imbedded in the tailgate. He checked the side mirror to count the casualties they'd left in their wake. Three dead. One wounded, and eleven running for their trucks.

Hank did his best to keep the truck on the road at speeds it wasn't meant to go. The more distance he could put between them the better. He figured he'd gotten about a five-minute head start. They would need to get the bodies out of the way, gather their weapons and divide into teams before they could follow. He wondered if any of the men running for the trucks would stop to give aid to their wounded brothers, or if they'd just drive over the bodies of their fallen comrades.

This rag-tag band of vigilantes was no trained Extermination Squad and wasted precious minutes organizing themselves. Minutes Hank was desperately grateful to have. He barreled down the highway, taking the hairpin turns at breakneck speeds. His extensive knowledge of the lay of the land bought him almost twenty minutes before he saw them appear in the side mirror.

Hank took another grenade from the ordinance locker mounted under the dash and checked the mirror for the correct trajectory before letting it fly. They made the mistake of assuming it was the same type of grenade he used the first time. They were mistaken. The thermite grenade detonated, spewing burning phosphorous over everything in a twenty-meter radius. The lead truck took the brunt of it, exploding in an impressive ball of fire as it careened wildly off the road.

Still trying to outrun his pursuers and hoping that none of the bullets whizzing by happened to hit one of the gasoline drums in the back, Hank took the next turn too quickly and was forced to turn off onto a logging road or risk their vehicle being overturned. He cursed eloquently as he pulled the colt from the holster. He couldn't use grenades here. He needed the road behind him to be intact. He knew this road... and he knew it dead-ended about ten miles in. He couldn't _walk_ two small girls a hundred miles.

The truck bounced violently as it raced along the dirt road, climbing up the steep grade. The tires spun, spitting gravel as Hank did his best to return fire while simultaneously dodging potholes and trying to keep the truck from rolling down the mountainside. He fired blindly and a lucky shot connected. The windshield on the lead truck shattered with a loud crack and the driver slumped heavily over the wheel. The truck turned sharply to the left and ran into the side of the cliff. The sickening sound of twisting metal immediately followed and Hank grimaced. The wreck would buy him a few minutes, but he'd only managed to take out two of the trucks and unfortunately, of the eleven men still chasing him, he'd only killed four.

He increased his speed, wanting to get as far ahead of them as he could. Up ahead he could see the large clearing at the end of the road. He looked behind him once more and didn't notice the small washed out section of road until it was too late. With a sickening lurch, the truck hit the deep rut and flipped violently onto its side. The impact knocked the breath from his powerful body. Unable to breathe but still aware, he forced himself to move.

Hank righted himself and immediately began searching for his weapon. A few moments of searching turned up his gun and a single unspent clip. He wasted precious seconds scratching at the ammo locker with his sharp black claws, but the impact had jammed it shut. His chest finally expanded once again and he drew in a painful breath. Getting the wind knocked out of him wasn't fatal, but it burned horribly as the spasm in his diaphragm put pressure on his solar plexus. He sucked in another agonizing breath and managed to get his voice working again as he climbed from the vehicle.

"Rogue, Jubilee?"

He shot the end of the vehicle a look while he searched for the rifle he carried under the seat. "You must exit the vehicle immediately!" He could see Rogue already climbing out of the back, even as he shouted the words. She had a nasty gash under one eye and a thin line of blood around her neck from clutching the tags so tightly, but all her limbs appeared to be unbroken.

"Jubilee, you will exit this vehicle immediately!" He had no time for pretty words.

"No! I'm not leaving."

Hank cursed inwardly. He simply didn't have time to coax a scared child out of hiding. He needed them to do what he said without question. She would move or she would die. It was that simple. A minute ticked by and she did not climb out of the back. He mentally crossed her off the list. He couldn't count on her to provide any assistance. To waste time doing so would be a serious miscalculation on his part. The lives of the many are worth more than the lives of the few or the one. He would grieve later.

Rogue seemed to sense the shift in his focus. "Jubilee, please. You gotta get out." Rogue beat on the side of the truck with her small fists.

"NO! Leave me here! I'm not going!" Her voice was thready and high with panic.

There was no time to waste. He had only minutes before the men would be upon them. He knew what he had to do. His priorities were clear. Save himself because he was the only thing standing between Rogue and death. Save Rogue because she was Logan's future. Jubilee no longer entered into the equation. He wouldn't risk himself or Rogue to save someone who wouldn't save herself.

Only the strong survived.

Hank jammed the unspent clip into the gun with the heel of his hand and turned to Rogue. "Take this." He handed her the pistol, glad he'd wasted no time in beginning her education. She knew how to fire it and was fairly capable of hitting a stationary target. Thank God, she wasn't the one cowering in the truck. Jubilee was not nearly as proficient with the firearm.

"Hank?" She literally shook with fear.

"Take the gun, Rogue." It was heavy in her hand and hot from being fired so many times. "I will go back and try to stop our pursuers from reaching the clearing." He looked away from her to the road as the sound of the engines grew louder. "It is imperative you shoot any man who manages to get past me." He had no time to coddle her. "Remember to aim for the chest." It presented a larger target and was easier for an inexperienced shooter to make than a headshot.

"Won't that hurt them?" Growing up she'd been taught to never point a gun at a person. Not even a toy gun.

Large golden eyes fixed on her pale, scared face, hating himself for what he was about to do, but there was no time. No time. _Forgive me, little one_.

"Any man who gets by me is going to do to you and Jubilee what your father did to your mother. Do you understand?"

Her eyes became eerily flat. "I understand."

The tone of her voice raised the fur on the back of his neck. "You know what to do." He knew she did. He'd been clear about teaching them what to do in case of an emergency. "Remember that if I do not return, you are to take the GPS unit from its hiding place and activate it. Cyclops will find you, little one. Now go. Run into the trees and hide well." Rogue did as he ordered, and ran for the tree line as fast as she could.

Hank hoped to God it wouldn't come to that. In the last seven years the beacon had only been activated four times - and all of them had ended badly. The last time had only been a month ago. They'd arrived to find all but one of their team dead. Only Warren was still clinging to life. They found him on his knees, using his massive wings to shield three small children from a hail of bullets. He was bleeding profusely, bright blood on stark white feathers. An angel, broken and bloody. They managed to rescue the four of them, but in the month since, Warren still had not regained consciousness. The children faired better. One was still at Scott's camp. One was currently refusing to come out of the back of this truck. And the last, he'd recently delivered into Logan's care.

Hank looked over his shoulder to check Rogue's progress. She was nearly at the tree line. He was glad she wasn't there to see him rummage through the cab only to find the rifle and discover its barrel was bent, rendering it useless, and him weaponless. He grabbed the tire iron and ran back the way he'd come, eating up the ground in mammoth strides. He wasn't fast enough.

He'd been hoping to engage them farther back on the road. They had arrived in time to see a small girl running towards the woods. Hank spared her a look and was surprised to see that Jubilee had climbed into the cab of the truck through the broken windshield so she could retrieve the radio. She'd stayed behind to get at the radio. The futility of the gesture stabbed at his heart. It couldn't reach the base from here. He'd told them that. God, in that moment, how he despised the hopefulness of youth.

The two trucks skidded to a stop at the far edge of the clearing and seven men scrambled out, shouting at each other and pointing towards the trees where Rogue had hidden herself and towards Jubilee who had run back into the enclosed bed of the truck. They screamed at him, hurling insults and threats; gory accounts what they were going to do to him when they caught him, and what horrors they were going to do to those pretty little girls they'd seen hiding themselves.

Hanks fur bristled. This was going to be ugly. He wasted no energy on words as adrenaline spiked sharply in him. They hadn't shot him on sight, which meant they wanted revenge for what he'd done to their comrades. Only three of them had guns. If he could take them out first, he might have a chance. Hank's hulking body loomed larger as he rose from his fighting crouch and let out an inhuman bellow of rage as they rushed him. He flung the tire iron, knocking one of the guns to the ground as the hand that had been holding it shattered under the force of the blow.

This was no movie fight. They didn't come at him one at a time so he could pick them off one by one. They closed in like a pack of snapping dogs, ready to tear him apart. They still wanted revenge. He could see it burning in their eyes. They might shoot to wound, but they still wanted him alive. For those closest to him, it would be the last mistake they ever made.

The first man made the grievous error of raising his arm and extending it before he pulled the trigger. Hank felt the bullet crease his shoulder even as he wrenched the man's arm free from its socket and pried the gun from its nerveless fingers. Hank shot him point blank in the chest while he used the dead man's arm like a club to break the cheekbone of the next man. He went down hard. The arm snapped under the force of the blow and Hank dropped it, roaring with rage as they swarmed around him like ants and ripped the gun from his hand.

He dodged a blow and took three others, trying to engage them all, trying to keep them from getting to the girls. He failed. Two men made it past him, leaving three others to face him while they went after the girls. They got him down and someone kicked him with a steel-toed boot, cracking one of his heavy ribs before he could rise to his feet once again.

He fought ruthlessly, biting when he could and raking them with his sharp black claws again and again until the ground ran red with blood. Two of them had knives. It wasn't just their blood that made the grass beneath them slick and dark. Behind him, he heard one report and saw the muzzle flash out of the corner of his eye. He heard a second report and then seven more in rapid succession. Nine shots in all. His skin crawled with fear.

_Out. She was out now. God be merciful. _

He desperately wanted to turn and look to see if she had felled the two men who had gotten past him, but he knew if he turned his back on the other three they'd cut him down like a pack of hungry jackals. Even as he snapped one man's neck, he prayed to God that Rogue's light would not be extinguished.

Beast that he was, he knew if the darkness swallowed Logan, he'd be a thousand times worse. If she died, it would unleash a creature of unimaginable proportions on the world. Nobody would be safe. He fought harder, letting one man sink his knife deeply into his thigh so he could catch the other with his massive reach. He ripped the man's throat out with his canines, leaving his hands free to pull the knife from his leg. He jerked it clear and buried it deeply in the remaining man's chest with an inhuman cry.

His shout echoed loudly in the crisp air and he gulped in a ragged breath, too spent to do anything but clutch his aching side and collapse to his knees. The metallic taste of blood was strong in his mouth and sharp in the brisk air. He gagged and voided his stomach into the blood-spattered grass. Worry for Rogue ate at his insides and forced him to his feet. He had to make sure she was safe. Logan's future depended upon it.

All their futures depended upon it.

Hank turned to go but a new sound growing louder in the still air stopped him cold and he spun around in disbelief.

Trucks. More trucks.

He'd made a critical error in assuming the men pursuing them were alone. He sucked in a sharp breath and listened intently. There were three more vehicles on the highway below. They'd overshot the logging road, but he could hear their tires squealing as they turned around. He wouldn't have long. He bent to gather up the weapons and a new sound reached his ears. The steady thwock, thwock, thwock grew louder and his blood froze in his veins.

_Holy Mother of God._

They had a helicopter.


	10. Carpe Diem

**Carpe Diem**

_Maxima debetur puero reverenta_.  
The greatest respect is owed to a child.

The rhythmic thwocking of the helicopter galvanized Hank into motion and he began to run. He raced across the clearing, eating up the ground with mammoth strides, moving fast and low, more like a charging grizzly than a man. One thought, and one thought alone, dominated his mind. He had to lead them away from Rogue. A dark haired girl in dark clothing would be difficult to spot from the sky. Such was not the case with him. For once, he was glad he made such a clear target. They would follow him. Vivid blue tore across a field of verdant green. He ignored the horrible ache in his chest and the blinding pain in his leg as he pushed himself faster.

He knew what was coming. The steady thwocking grew louder. He had no illusions. He was not invincible. In a ground fight he could do some serious damage, but from the air they could easily cut him down. He sought only to give Rogue what little assistance he could. She had a slim chance if she did as he had instructed. They would expect her to run. If she rolled in the ground litter to mask her scent and hid well before activating the GPS unit, she might make it - but she needed time. He would give her as much as he could.

Hank charged down the road, completely focused on putting as much distance between himself and Rogue as possible. He did not waste the energy to turn and look as the helicopter descended through the low cloud cover. Hank could hear the whine of the engines and the distinctive sound of the rotor as the Black Hawk loomed closer. A shadow passed overhead and his eyes flicked upwards. Hank's breath left his body in a rush of disbelief as he saw the three distinct marks on the underbelly of the chopper.

_God be merciful._ It was Scott.

Back in the clearing, Marie remained in hiding until the helicopter had flown overhead before racing to the overturned truck and removing the GPS unit from the underside of the frame. Acutely aware she was out of ammunition, she stopped to retrieve a gun from one of the men she had shot. She froze for an instant as everything in her rebelled against touching the blood-spattered weapon. She forced herself to reach out her hand and wrap it around the gun, ignoring the bits of pulpy bone and teeth that were sticking to it as she slid her small hand around the slick grip. The world spun wildly around her and she was afraid she was going to be sick when a totally unexpected sound caught her attention.

Inside the back of the truck, the radio squawked again, crackling loudly before coming to life. "Helo-One to Ground, say again, over."

Shock galvanized Marie into motion and she ran for the tree line, terrified and hopeful all at once.

"Me plus two, uh, friendlies on the ground, dude. One small one in the trees, twenty yards north- northeast." Jubilee's head popped out of a tear in the canvas and disappeared before her voice came again. "Blue's about 300 yards to the south. Moving fast."

"Roger that, Ground. We have a visual. Sit tight."

Almost unable to believe his eyes, Hank crashed to his knees as relief overwhelmed him. He did not know how Scott had found them, but his assistance was most welcome. Hearing the trucks zipping up the road, Hank forced himself to his feet, chest heaving as he looked skyward. The helicopter circled him once, low enough for Hank to see the gunner doors along the sides were open and Bobby was standing at the edge, harnessed in to prevent him from falling, should Scott be forced to bank sharply.

For the first time since Hank had stopped at the roadblock, he smiled. Young Robert was an excellent marksman, but he was far more deadly without a gun. He couldn't control a bullet once it left the chamber. He could, however, control ice projectiles and guide them up and over and around - into places bullets couldn't go. Scott had enough artillery to take care of anything that required heavier firepower.

A spray of bullets kicked up the dirt in front of him and Hank looked back to the road. The three trucks were almost upon him. Watching from the sky, Scott adjusted his earpiece and spoke one command very clearly.

"Now, Bobby."

A curved wall of ice two feet thick, five feet tall and seven feet long formed in front of Hank in a semicircle. Hank crouched behind it, in awe. Bobby's gifts were growing. He glanced upwards and saw Bobby sagging against the harness. It had to have taken an incredible amount of energy to pull that much moisture from the air and slow down the molecules until vapor became water and water became ice. No wonder the air was so dry. He'd never seen Robert manifest this much ice at one time.

Even as that thought flashed through his mind, he quickly wiped away the blood from his nose as he hunkered down behind the barricade. The air was so dry it hurt to breathe, but he was grateful for the ice wall when Scott launched the first rocket and the closest truck exploded into an impressive ball of flames. Hank watched the distorted image through the thick ice, flinching as chunks of shrapnel imbedded themselves deeply in the front of the frozen wall.

"Scratch one." Scott's voice crackled loudly in the confines of the canvas truck bed and Jubilee's breath caught. Hidden in the nearby trees, Marie's small hands clutched at the tags as his voice reached her ears.

The Black Hawk shuddered as Scott launched another rocket. The second truck disappeared in a hellish explosion and more flaming debris struck the thick wall of ice.

"Scratch two." Scott's voice came again and Jubilee's hands shook.

Three. She'd clearly heard three trucks. _Please, God, let him get the third one_. Marie's silent whispers joined Jubilee's prayers.

Hank watched as the third truck skidded to a halt and six men jumped out. They assumed they had a better chance on foot than in a vehicle. Scott launched a third rocket to destroy their last avenue of escape. The truck blossomed into a ball of fire.

"Scratch three." Jubilee didn't even wait for Scott's voice to fade before she let out a whoop of victory. Marie stayed still and silent. She wouldn't celebrate until this was over and she knew Hank was safe. Maybe not even then. The gory images of the two dead men she'd shot haunted her.

Back on the road, Hank smiled as he curled himself into a ball behind the ice. He knew what was coming. There was no moisture left in the air for Robert to utilize so he would simply reform the ice he'd already created. Even without looking, Hank knew what was happening. The smooth wall was reshaping itself into a semicircle of deadly projectiles. A frozen claymore. In an instant, it shattered with a loud crack and sent thousands of icy splinters outward with impressive force. They might not be able to pierce metal, but they pierced flesh well enough. Six men went down screaming. Bobby redirected the last of the icy fragments and the screaming abruptly stopped.

"Helo-One to Ground, the immediate threat has been neutralized. Blue will return shortly while we sweep the area, over."

"Roger that. Thanks. We- There's two, um, unfriendlies here. They- They're dead." Jubilee choked back the bile. She'd seen death, but never like that.

"Copy that, Ground. Thank you for the assistance." The radio went silent and then abruptly crackled back to life. "Good job."

Scott brought the helicopter lower and circled Hank. It was too dangerous to land here, but at this distance they would be able to use visual communication. Bobby gave the 'all clear' motion to Hank and watched as he sagged with relief. With a smile, Bobby held up two fingers and pointed back in the direction of the clearing, indicating visual confirmation of two men down back by the truck before he motioned that they would sweep the immediate area once and then recon the surrounding forest.

Hank waved back and set off for the clearing at a jog while the helicopter gained altitude. Without adrenaline aiding his flight, it took several minutes to cover the distance. He'd barely made it to the clearing when he heard the first strafing run. A few moments later a loud boom resonated in the air and the ground shook with the concussive force of the blast. Hank's eyes scanned the horizon and he could see a large plume of black smoke rising from beyond the southern ridge. It looked as if Scott had found the militia's encampment.

Another blast rent the air, followed by several lesser explosions. Again the ground shook violently with the force of the detonation. This time, a fireball was visible over the edge of the ridge. Hank smiled. Scott had obviously destroyed whatever munitions stockpile the militia had amassed.

Hank halted in the center of the clearing. "Young ones, you may come out of hiding. We are safe!" There was no movement in the clearing whatsoever. For a second his breath caught in his throat before he realized he hadn't given the safe word. He'd expressly told them in case of emergency they were not to reveal themselves to anyone unless that person knew the safe word. "Twinkie!" He felt a little silly shouting that particular word, but it was a good safe word. They wouldn't forget it. It wouldn't be mistaken for anything else and wasn't a word one would normally use in conversation, much less a word one would shout at the top of one's lungs.

Hank heard noise coming from the truck and Jubilee's head appeared from behind the flap. Relief filled him even as he scanned the forest for Rogue. Jubilee pointed to the trees and Hank started in that direction, passing the two bodies lying in a heap in the grass. The first had two bullet holes in his chest. The second had one in his arm and one in his neck and presumably a few others in what was left of his head. No wonder Rogue was still hiding.

Hank walked slowly into the trees. "Little one, it is Hank. You are safe now. You may come out." Still no sign of her. "I would like very much to ascertain you are unharmed, Rogue." A small movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he looked left. A small dirty girl with a mud-streaked face and leaves in her hair stared at him with wild frightened eyes from behind a thick truck.

"I- I'm out." She looked toward the gun at her feet. "I had to- had to-" She looked toward the direction of the two bodies nervously and then her eyes jumped back to him.

Hank's heart constricted in his chest. "Rogue, it is all right. You did what you must to protect yourself and Jubilee." He sat back on his haunches unwilling to approach her for fear he would only frighten her further.

She looked away from him and her voice was very small. "I killed them."

Hank nodded. "Yes, child, you did." He paused. "I killed as well. So did Cyclops and Iceman. All of us took lives this day." Hank looked down at himself and realized he was liberally covered with splashes of blood. His face and chest were matted with it and his hands were red. No wonder she didn't want to come to him. A resigned sigh passed his lips. "Sometimes we must take a life to save a life, and that is never an easy choice."

With an unexpected flurry of movement, Marie dropped the gun she'd retrieved next to the empty one Hank had given her and launched herself into his arms, uncaring that he was bloody and she was covered in dirt. All she wanted to do was bury her face in his thick fur and feel his arms around her. He was so big and safe.

"Ah, yes, well..." Her total acceptance humbled him. Most adults never felt this comfortable around him and yet here she was, clinging to him for dear life, blood spatters and all.

"I thought you were gonna die." She sniffled the words into the thick fur at his throat.

He stroked her back soothingly with one large hand and held her tightly. "I must admit, I too, believed that to be the case." He was still uncertain how Scott had managed to find them. He couldn't even begin to calculate those odds. "I believe I would like to find our young friend and obtain some answers. Shall we return?"

Marie nodded and loosened her hold on his neck. He stood up and retrieved the firearm she'd left in the dirt. He tucked his back in his holster but left the one she'd taken from the body. His eyebrow quirked. It was a Desert Eagle .44 magnum. She was lucky she didn't have to shoot it. The recoil probably would have broken her wrist.

Her small hand wormed its way into his larger one and they started back towards the truck. When they approached the bodies, Marie hid her face against his leg and sniffled loudly. To her surprise, Hank stopped walking and urged her to look at him.

"Do not ever be ashamed of what you did here today, Rogue. You did as I asked and saved your life and the life of your young friend." He squeezed her hand. "You will be a great leader one day and this is an important lesson that all great leaders must learn." He turned them so she could see the bodies. "There is no glory in death, little one, and it never comes without a price. All lives have value. Even these men had families." Her eyes filled with tears. "But a good leader must weigh that against how they choose to live their lives. These men placed a higher value on pain and terror than on peace. They sought to do harm to innocent people. They were not defending themselves. They were attacking without cause, intent on hurting others for pleasure."

Hank paused and lifted her chin with one large blue finger so he could look into her sad, dark eyes. "What we brought to these men wasn't murder, little one, it was simply justice." His voice softened as they began walking again. "I know it is a hard lesson." He squeezed her hand once more. "But with great power also comes great responsibility and you must know how to use it when it is your turn to lead."

She didn't say anything, she just squeezed his hand back tightly, but he could see the understanding in her intelligent, dark eyes. This would be a day, and a lesson, she would never forget, and she would a better leader because of it.

The two of them approached the truck in time to hear Scott's voice break the static of the radio once again. "All clear, Ground. Cavalry will be arriving shortly. We'll sweep the road on the way back to base to make sure it's secure. Helo-One, over and out."

Marie looked skyward as the Black Hawk circled the clearing once more before disappearing over the ridge. Her eyes widened as she saw the three distinct marks on the underside of the helicopter. She knew what they were and who they belonged to. She'd seen that mark several times on her way to Logan's camp. Her small hand stole to the tags and gripped them tightly. He'd kept his promise and found a way to protect her even when he was so far away.

"Hank?"

He saw the direction of her gaze and smiled. "Yes, that is Wolverine's mark." Hank's smile faded at the memory. "Before the war broke out, Wolverine and Cyclops and I used to live at a place that helped people like us learn to control their gifts. When it was attacked, Wolverine... _liberated_... that particular helicopter so Cyclops could fly those of us who survived to safety." His gaze grew thoughtful. "The battle was long and very costly. We lost many friends that day."

He thought of Charles and of the others who'd been killed while Logan and Scott cleared a path through the Extermination Squads to get the children to safety. His duty had been to protect the children while Scott covered them all and Logan appropriated the helicopter. There had been no time to prep the Blackbird. War was never convenient.

"Wolverine was nearly killed and the helicopter got scratched by his claws when he was guarding it as we climbed aboard." He didn't add that when Logan's claws had pierced the fuselage they'd also accidentally pierced Scott, nor did he mention that Logan had stayed behind against nearly insurmountable odds to give them a chance to escape.

All of them, including Logan, had believed it to be a suicide mission. His healing factor was hardly functioning when he made it, bloody and torn, to the rendezvous point, but he'd made it. He'd staggered in on sheer willpower alone and smiled at the number of children they'd managed to save before collapsing heavily into the dirt and remaining unconscious for the better part of a month.

"Eventually, when the dust settled and this base was established, Cyclops had that mark painted on the Black Hawk to remind us there is no victory without sacrifice."

Marie nodded, still clutching the tags in her small dirty hand as Jubilee emerged from the back of the truck with Hank's laptop in one hand and the radio in the other.

"Oh, my stars and garters!" Hank sucked in a breath. "How on earth did you..."

Jubilee grinned. "Kitty showed me some stuff-"

"Kitty?" Hank's eyebrows rose. Surely not. Those files were encrypted and password protected. The passwords weren't even in English. She couldn't possibly have cracked them, yet the proof was sitting right here before him. The old adage applied. Throw out what you know to be false and whatever remains, however unlikely, is the truth.

"Yup, Hankster." Jubilee grinned again. "She told me how to get access and told me you had a satellite uplink so if we were in danger I should email the base." She looked a little embarrassed now.

Hank's mind was turning over all the variables. Considering how far they were from the base and how fast the Black Hawk could fly she would have had to-

"Yeah, um, I sent the first email when we stopped at the roadblock." She shrugged. "I have a pretty good sense of direction and I've used a radio before so I stayed behind to relay info back to them." She paused. "Sorry about not doing what you said. I didn't want to get your hopes up though, in case it didn't work."

"You have my most hearty thanks for your timely intervention, Jubilation."

"Thanks." She handed Hank the radio. "And the pilot said to tell you that the 'cavalry' was on its way."

Marie, who had been listening in silence until now, spoke up. "If that wasn't the cavalry that saved us then what was it?"

Hank grinned. "That was justice, little one, and the wrath of a very powerful man." He squeezed Rogue's hand. "Who also happens to be a dear friend and a very wise leader." He didn't add thorough and ruthless. He knew that tonight under the cover of darkness, Scott would return here to deal with the bodies. Logan would have left them to rot. Coyote shit or worm food, it made no difference to him. They were beneath his contempt.

Scott, on the other hand, liked to send a message. The next people who wandered this stretch of road would find a row of dead humans with a perfect hole in their chest where their hearts used to be and a thin line lasered into the ground. The message was clear.

_Cross the line, come after me or mine, and you will pay._

Jubilee set the laptop down into the grass and put her hand to her eyes to shield her face from the sun as she looked up at Hank. "I just have one question."

"And what might that be, Jubilation?" Hank grinned as he righted the truck with a grunt and rummaged around for the first aid kit. His leg ached and the cut under Rogue's eye needed to be attended to.

She smiled mischievously. "What does 'carp-a dee-um' mean?"

Ah, his final password. "_Carpe diem_?" He returned to the girls with the kit held firmly in his hand and smiled at his two small charges. All of them were a little worse for the wear, banged up and bloody, but against all odds they had survived. "It means "seize the day," little ones." He gathered them into his arms and held them tightly. "And indeed we have."


	11. Peace of Mind

**Peace of Mind**

_Nos beatam vitam in animi securitate ponimus_.  
In my opinion, happiness lies in peace of mind.

Hank stuck his large blue arm out the window of the truck and waved once to the 'cavalry' as the two Humvees turned off towards the motor pool. He had been very thankful for their assistance. They had not only helped him clear the wreckage of the trucks from the logging road and helped him repair his vehicle, but they had also watched the girls for him while he found a river to wash away the remnants of the fight from his massive body and then helped him attend to all their wounds. It was late autumn and the rushing water was so icy it stole his very breath, but anything was preferable to having his fur matted with blood and gore. Hank smiled inwardly, aware that the presence of the escort had eased the girls' fear considerably on the ride back to the base.

Hank slowed the vehicle as they approached the main gate. Scott's base would be a wonderful home for his two precious charges. Before the war, this place had been one of the military's secret strategic air command bases. After Legacy had decimated the world's population, there weren't enough men left to defend this place, let alone keep it running.

It fit Scott to a tee. It was remote. The general population - or what was left of it, anyway - wasn't even aware it existed, and it was fairly easy to defend. Alone, he could take out incoming aircraft or heavy ground units at well over a mile with his optic blasts. It was well planned out, organized, and it had subterranean facilities for nearly three thousand people - although, at last count, only four hundred and thirty-six lived there. It was as well-organized below ground as it was above. The base had several massive underground storerooms, stocked full. Military rations might not always be palatable, but at least nobody went hungry when the regular supply lines were cut off during the harsh winter months. In addition, the base also had its own self-sufficient generators, water purification and waste disposal systems.

It also happened to have several subterranean hangars, complete with all the tools and fuel Scott could possibly need to keep the Blackbird flight-ready. That in itself was a monumental undertaking and that was one of the reasons he'd chosen this place. It didn't happen right away. The Blackbird sat in the hidden hangar under 'Xavier's School for the Gifted' for more than a year before Scott was ready to bring her to the base. He rarely did anything without meticulous planning. It was simply a part of his nature. His 'gift' was spacial and visual. It was more than simply a unique view of the world. It affected his mind. He saw differently and therefore he thought and processed differently. He could do things with numbers that awed even Hank, but it was what he could do with trajectories and probables that was truly amazing.

In a nutshell, he had tactical genius even Alexander the Great would envy and biting sarcasm to match; however, like most highly intelligent people, he had a hard time being comfortable around others. He was a difficult man to get to know. He rarely let anyone close to him, and even the few people he did allow close didn't really understand him. He was an enigma, even to them. A sharp mind trapped in an imperfect body. It wasn't that he was clumsy or unattractive; he just seemed at times to be uncomfortable in his own skin. Not self-conscious exactly, he was far too confident and aware of his abilities for that to be the case. It was more like he was always on edge, hyperaware of the position of his body in a given space and of everyone else's in relation to it. It made sense, considering the severity of his mutation and what would happen if his glasses were ever knocked askew.

It wasn't that he expected it to happen, but it was clear that he was always ready to check an unexpected motion if he needed to. It didn't stop him from playing basketball with his men or make him waver in a crowd or in a combat situation, but that awareness was always there and at some subconscious level, he'd set himself apart from everyone for their protection - and his. There was a huge difference between projecting the image that he felt nothing and actually feeling nothing. He did the former because he was the leader and he had no choice... and as for the latter... well, underneath it all, he was simply a man. He felt pain and hurt and guilt just as deeply as any other man, and it would devastate him if his gift ever injured someone by accident.

Despite his more somber musings on the nature of their leader's inner thoughts, Hank grinned widely when he saw who was waiting with the guard at the barricade as he brought the truck to a stop. "Hello to the gate!"

Bobby grinned back. "Helloooo to the truck!" He jumped the barricade excitedly and hurried to the vehicle with a gait that was half exuberance and half something that was uniquely Bobby. "Oh, man, am I glad to see you!" His smile was infectious.

"A sentiment I share wholeheartedly." Hank heaved a great sigh of relief. "And I am most thankful for your timely assistance earlier today."

Bobby smiled a little tiredly. "No problem." It wasn't quite the truth, and they both knew it, but each of them let it slide. They were both exhausted, but they were alive and that was what mattered. Bobby jerked his head toward the back of the truck. "Please tell me you have good news for us, Hank. Fearless has been riding us all pretty hard since you left." That comment in itself was telling.

Hank was taken aback for a moment. Surely Scott had asked about... No, no of course he wouldn't ask. He would never put his personal worries above his duties as the leader of this base. Hank's heart went out to him. Scott always gave the outward appearance that he was patient, but in all truth, he hated to wait and Hank knew he had to be on pins and needles awaiting his news of Kitty. He berated himself sharply for not sending the news via email, regardless of Scott's express order to use it only for dire emergencies.

"I do, indeed, bear wonderful news." He smiled widely. "Katherine has found a home, and Logan a daughter."

Bobby let out a short whoop and smacked the cab of the truck with the flat of his hand. His blue eyes twinkled in his youthful face. "And the bribe?"

Now it was Hank's turn to smile. "Ah, yes... With all the excitement, I had forgotten about our little wager." He rubbed his hands together in delight. "The bribe was not necessary-"

"Awww, crap!"

He continued on, smiling wider at Bobby's outburst. "Indeed. You may deliver your next month's ration of Twinkies to my residence at your leisure." He licked his lips in anticipation of the sugary treats. "Have no fear. I shall enjoy each and every bite, Robert." He chuckled. "And I will endeavor to think of you as I indulge in our favorite snack."

"Damn, Hank. Did anyone ever tell you you're a sore winner?"

Hank took that bit of teasing in stride and blinked with mock innocence. "Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I believe it was you the last time we-"

"Alright, alright already." He held his hands up in defeat. "Cut a guy some slack!" Bobby's grin faded as he looked up towards the Command Center and saw an imposing figure in black, standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest. Scott wouldn't deny them this - it really wasn't about bribes or Twinkies. It was about two good friends taking a moment to reassure themselves, and each other, that they were both okay after today's close call. He'd give them their time... but he wasn't above reminding them he, too, was waiting for the news that the people he cared about were safe.

Bobby swiftly came around to the passenger side and climbed in. "C'mon, Hankster, let's get going. Fearless is waiting."

Hank rolled his eyes, even as he started the truck and proceeded through the gates. "Robert, I do not suppose it has ever crossed your mind that 'Fearless' does not care for that nickname any more than I care for mine?"

It was an old joke and Bobby gave the required response. "Of course I know that. _That's_ why I do it-" He flashed him the trademark Bobby smile. "-Hankster."

Both of them were still chuckling good-naturedly as Hank parked the vehicle in front of the Command Center and they climbed out. Hank winced as he put his full weight on his injured leg and his stiff, battle-sore body protested unhappily as he gingerly stretched it after the long drive. He waved to Scott and called to the girls. "We have finally arrived, little ones. You may come out now. I am certain you are curious about your new home."

Scott watched from the porch as Bobby helped the two girls from the back of the truck. He swallowed a smile. Even now, they watched out for each other. Both he and Bobby were aware Hank's body, though massive, had to be in an incredible amount of pain from the beating he'd taken this afternoon. Bobby didn't ask. He simply stepped in to help the girls down to save Hank the pain of doing it himself. They were an odd pair, a great beast of a man and a gangly young man, not yet eighteen. They were as different as night and day, yet they were as close as brothers. As a leader, he took pride in them. Paired together, they were his most efficient fighters. As a man, Scott envied them their deep friendship.

Although outwardly calm, Scott waited impatiently while everyone got situated and climbed the steps. "Beast." The warm handshake and the hand gripping Hank's shoulder firmly belied the stern greeting.

"Cyclops." Hank greeted, smiling at him tiredly. He had completed his mission. He'd delivered the girls safely. The responsibility of being in charge of Scott's mate - and then Logan's - had weighed heavily upon him and now that it was gone, exhaustion swamped him. His eyes darted to the small, dark-haired woman who'd stepped silently through the door.

Scott stepped aside to let Hank pass. "That was some show you put on this afternoon. You'd think we had nothing better to do around here on a Saturday afternoon than to scramble the emergency aircraft for a mercy mission." His perfectly deadpanned delivery was spoiled by a small smirk of amusement.

"Ah, yes. Well, I would not wish things to become dull in my absence." Hank's words were directed at Scott, but his golden eyes had never left the petite woman standing by the door. He closed the distance between them in two large strides.

"Henry," her soft voice.

"Noriko," his voice was equally soft as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately without a shred embarrassment or reservation, despite the number of eyes on them. The feel of her in his arms, the taste of her in his mouth, her very presence did more to ease his tired, aching body than anything else. Stars, how he loved this woman.

She broke the kiss first and whispered against his mouth. "Are you okay?"

"I am well. A little worse for the wear, but nothing I cannot see to myself."

Her smile was soft. "Welcome home, husband. I missed you."

"And I you, my beautiful wife." He nuzzled her cheek. "The children?" He whispered into her dark hair.

"Your son is fine. I just put him down." She nipped the lobe of his pointed ear gently and put his large palm on her barely rounded stomach as she whispered into his ear. "And your daughter missed being in your arms as much as I did."

He kissed her again, reining in his fierce passion this time, fearing if he started, he might not be able to stop and there were still the girls to consider. He knew it would be strange for them to see their caretaker, a person they associated with safety and security, suddenly acting like a man with desires and needs of his own. Still, he hadn't been able to keep from pressing his mouth to hers just once more before embracing her in a fierce hug. After a long moment, he stepped away, but he never took his hand from the small of her back.

Though gentle in nature, the possessive gesture wasn't lost on either Scott or Bobby. Even Hank, cultured though he was, felt the primitive need to physically demonstrate to the other males in his group that this female was his. She instinctively leaned into his touch, unconsciously reinforcing his claim - and hers upon him. On some level, Hank was aware of the more base meaning of the possessive gesture, but he was also aware he simply couldn't keep from touching her. She was his wife and he loved her deeply. Smiling widely at the expectant faces watching them; Hank stroked the small of her back gently with one hand and motioned for the girls to come closer with the other.

"Jubilee, Rogue," he looked at his wife and waited for the small nod that assured him it was permissible to reveal to them her true name. "This is Noriko, my wife."

"Thank you both for taking such good care of my husband this afternoon, ladies." She gave him a squeeze and the girls smiled at her.

Hank turned to look at his wife. "And thank you, wife... Or did you think I would not recognize the co-pilot in the helicopter that came to our rescue this afternoon?"

"Hmm..." Noriko smiled at Jubilee and Rogue. "It seems we women need to stick together to keep our men safe, doesn't it, girls?" Jubilee giggled and Rogue smiled shyly.

Hank stroked his wife's cheek with one finger. "If you will excuse me, my love, there is something I need to discuss with Cyclops." She nodded and he pulled away, following Scott inside, his eyes widening when he saw the usually busy office was deserted.

Scott saw the small gesture of surprise and his lips thinned. "I told them to leave when I saw you at the gate," was all he offered. He didn't have to say more. Hank understood. He'd cleared the room, afraid of what he might do if the news was bad. Hank was incredibly thankful he would not have to tell Scott that Logan had refused to take Kitty or worse - that she'd been hurt or killed along the way. They both knew the risks and the dangers the trip had involved. Even with what had happened this afternoon, he knew he'd been lucky.

Fully aware of Scott's concerns, Hank wasted no time in getting right to the heart of the matter. "I take the utmost pleasure in reporting that Katherine has been safely delivered as per your instructions. She is under Logan's protection and he has assured me he will protect her with his life until such time that she is returned to you."

The tight set of Scott's mouth eased and his rigid shoulders slumped briefly as intense relief flooded him. In a rare moment of weakness, Scott let the wall support him as he sucked in a ragged breath. He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of imagining Kitty safely under Logan's care until this moment. Intellectually, he knew better than to hang all his hopes for the future on one young girl, but that hadn't stopped the man in him from doing so. The enormity of the relief he felt was staggering. He might appear to be the emotionless automaton to some, but underneath his stoic mask of leadership beat a very real heart. And for a few precious seconds, he allowed he let the mask slip and let the man rejoice that his future mate was safe.

Out of respect, Hank lowered his eyes to the floor to give Scott a moment of privacy to compose himself. Neither of the men noticed the eyes of one small girl watching their reflection in the glass of the door. Marie couldn't hear their words, but she knew _that_ look. She'd seen her mother wearing it often enough, overwhelming emotion, barely contained. Her mother had looked that way every time she'd managed to talk her father down from one of his wild rampages. Relief so intense it left the body boneless and shaky in its wake. Marie wondered what could make a man as strong as Cyclops need a wall to hold him up.

Scott drew in one last shaky breath and squared his shoulders as he stepped away from the wall. "Thank you, Hank."

Hank heard the wealth of emotion in those three small words and nodded. "It was my pleasure. She is a delightful child and quite resourceful, I might add." He could see Scott's eyebrows rise above his crimson glasses in question. "Ah, yes. It was she who cracked the encryption, enabling Jubilee to contact the base for reinforcements."

Scott's brows rose higher. "You didn't give Jubilee the codes?"

Hank shook his head. "I did not. In all honesty, I was quite preoccupied evading capture. Between the excessive speed and the grenades, I regret there was not much time for finesse." He watched Scott's lips twitch as a small smirk formed. "When the dust had settled, so to speak, Jubilation informed us that Katherine had supplied her with the codes and urged her to take matters into her own hands in the event I was otherwise occupied."

"You're shitting me."

Hank chuckled. Sometimes he forgot that Scott wasn't just a war-hardened leader. He was also a young man, barely twenty-six. It never failed to surprise him when 'Cyclops' stepped aside long enough for the 'Scott' he knew back at the mansion to make an appearance. And it pleased him because he was reminded that the war had not stolen all of Scott's youth.

"Indeed I am not." His amber eyes glittered. "I recall leaving her alone with my laptop briefly." His face grew thoughtful. "Yes, I am quite certain. No more than ten minutes, perhaps less."

A low whistle escaped Scott's lips. "Damn." However ineloquent his reply, Hank could almost hear the wheels turning in Scott's mind.

"I concur." An amused grin transformed his face. "The two of you together will be a force to be reckoned with."

A distinctly masculine smile touched Scott's features, but he said nothing. He knew he didn't need to. He'd seen the way Hank had kissed his wife. He understood all too well.

This time it was Hank's eyebrow that rose. "I do not envy you the long road you must walk, my friend." He grinned as he thought of the beautiful, intelligent woman waiting for him on the porch. "But I can tell you the destination is well worth whatever hardships you must endure."

Scott nodded seriously before he gave his battle-weary blue friend the once over and grinned. He'd taken enough time for himself. He knew Hank was anxious to get back to his wife and he needed to get the girls settled, however, he couldn't resist slipping one more in before the heavy mantle of leadership settled back over his shoulders. "Just be sure when Noriko's done taking care of you-" he smirked, "that she gets around to those injuries of yours as well."

Hank's eyes widened at the unexpected innuendo. "I will indeed." He grinned for a moment and then his expression became serious. "About Rogue-"

Scott hadn't even bothered asking Hank about Rogue. His acute vision missed nothing. The presence of Logan's tag around her neck told him everything he needed to know. "I saw them." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as a smile formed on his lips. "It looks as if Logan isn't the only one who gained a family member."

Hank smiled and clapped Scott on the shoulder with a large hand. He was immensely thankful that Logan and Scott would have the girls in their lives. Both of them were far too close to the darkness for comfort and he knew they would benefit from the distraction raising the girls would bring them. Just as he knew the next few years would prove interesting, indeed.

While Hank and Scott were inside talking, back outside on the porch, Bobby smiled at Noriko as he knelt by the girls. They were both a little banged up, but there was something about Rogue he found compelling. Even with her dirt-streaked face and leaves tangled in her long hair, she tugged at his heartstrings. She had a nasty scratch on her cheekbone and her eye was beginning to blacken above it. She needed to put some ice on that. An idea formed in his mind even as he turned to Jubilee. She had faired a little better, but she too had her share of cuts and bruises and he didn't want her to feel left out of what he was planning.

He smiled gently at them both, but it was Rogue's eyes that he met. "I'm Bobby."

"Rogue," her voice was quiet.

"I'm, uh, Jubilation," she smiled an embarrassed smile at Rogue. Cute boys always made her nervous. "But everyone calls me Jubilee or Jubes."

"Nice to meet you both." Bobby stroked his chin as he looked at Jubilee. He stretched his hands out and cupped them palm to palm like he was hiding a ball. At first nothing happened, and then slowly, light appeared and glittered softly from between his fingers as he released the energy stored in molecules and formed vapor into ice. The girls watched with curious eyes as he opened his hands to reveal a tiny replica of the Black Hawk. He held it out to Jubilee with a grin. "For the girl who emailed the 'Fearless Leader' with 'Dude, do whatever it is you do when Big Blue is under attack'." Everyone in the communications center was dying to meet the girl who'd dared to call Scott 'dude.'

Jubilee flushed, but took the small ice helicopter from Bobby and touched it delicately with one careful finger. "Wow! Thanks, Bobby. That's so cool!"

He nodded and turned to Rogue as he cupped his palms together once more. He didn't need any time to decide what he wanted to give to her. Not any time at all. Again, gentle light streamed from between his fingers and he opened his hands to reveal a delicate rose of ice. The late afternoon sun caught it and it glittered in his palm as he handed it to Rogue with a soft smile.

A throat cleared behind him and he stood up abruptly. He felt Scott's hand on his shoulder and heard the low firm words meant for his ears alone. "Look again, Bobby. She isn't for you."

Under his palm, Scott could feel him tense at the quiet reprimand. Bobby's eyes returned to Rogue and when Scott felt the sharp intake of air he let him go.

Bobby's eyes were glued to the tag hanging around Rogue's neck. "Oh, God. That's-"

"Yes, it is," Scott interrupted, aware that Rogue was watching the exchange intently.

She saw where they were looking and her small hand wrapped tightly around the tag. Rogue only shrugged and her soft drawl broke the silence. Her voice held the unwavering certainty of childhood as she simply spoke two words.

"He's mine."


	12. Stars of Indigo

**Stars of Indigo**

_Etiam celeritas in desiderio, mora est._  
In desire, swiftness itself is delay.

_He's mine._

Rogue's soft words came unbidden to Hank's mind as his brain became capable of rational thought once again. Cradling his petite wife against his wide chest while his heart beat a wild rhythm against her soft breasts, Hank understood those two little words all too well. His wife had her face buried in his neck, both awed and pleased she had the power to make his large frame tremble so. His hands stroked her back gently as he struggled to get his ragged breathing back under control now that her sweet mouth had eased the terrible urgency consuming him.

Although he reveled in the pleasure they found together, the oneness he experienced with her afterwards was what he enjoyed most, simply because it was something he never thought he'd have. Anyone could pay for sex. Love was something _more_. He loved the intimacy he felt holding his naked wife close to his heart while his body still shook with the force of his release and he knew his taste still lingered in her mouth. There was just something indescribably tender about sharing that moment with her. She was the only one who'd ever made love to him that way, and she was the only one with whom he'd felt comfortable enough to be that vulnerable, to let her see and touch and taste the body he'd thought so unlovable. In truth, she was the only one who had the power to shatter his monumental control, simply because she touched both his body and his heart.

Though the pleasure was intense, he disliked being so completely at the mercy of his raging desires. He wanted to be gentle with her, wanted to make love to her slowly, sweetly, yet he was unable to restrain himself when they had been separated for so long. He ached to touch her with tenderness, but the intensity of his desire robbed him of coherent thought, leaving in its wake desperate passion and overwhelming need. There were times the name Beast fit for more than just the obvious reasons. He hated it, and he was humbled that she could accept and love even that primal side of his nature.

Hank's mouth thinned as he recalled what had happened the first time he'd been unprepared for the intensity of the emotion he experienced when they were together after a long absence. At the time, he'd had very little carnal experience, and next to none that had involved both his body and his heart. In addition to his inexperience, he was a very large man and she was quite petite. Lovemaking wasn't impossible for them, but his sheer size and strength necessitated he be in control of himself at all times and in his fierce need, he'd been unable to restrain his desire and had caused her some discomfort.

Sensing his distress, she'd kissed away his worries and told him it was a sweet ache she'd gladly bear to have him with her once again, but it weighed heavily upon him. He might appear a beast to some, and have a beast's mammoth strength, but inside, he had a gentle nature and he would rather suffer himself than cause injury to a loved one. He'd shared his concerns and in her quiet way, she'd reassured him she was fine even as she lovingly whispered into his ear all manner of ideas for addressing that particular fear.

It had never been a problem again.

Hank closed his eyes and ran one large blue hand over her satiny hip, caressing her gently and wishing that his body wasn't in so much pain. Her mouth had tempered the fierce urgency clawing at him, but as much as he wanted to make love to her now, his cracked ribs and throbbing leg spoke otherwise. He sighed inwardly. His job as Scott's second was not without its rewards, but it also had a price. Battle was never pleasant, even when one was victorious.

With a quiet smile, Noriko shifted carefully to sit astride his powerful hips and kissed his chin and then his lips lightly. "Mmmm... Where are you, husband?"

Shaken from his thoughts by her soft question, amber eyes opened and he smiled as he slid his hands over the small curve of her belly. "I am here, my love." He slowly met her dark, shining eyes. "In truth, there is no place I'd rather be at this moment than here with you." There was a time and place for all thoughts and his wistful musings slipped silently away, leaving only soul-deep love and hungry desire.

She shifted, rocking gently against his renewed erection as she covered his hands with hers. Under his warm palms, her body cradled his child. Joy so profound it stole his breath, filtered through his consciousness. He was moved beyond words that she could not only love him, blue fur and all, but want to bear his children and raise a family with him as well. She was so very precious to him and sharing this with her was a gift beyond measure.

Although his scientific mind understood exactly what was taking place under his hands- cells converging, multiplying, developing into organs and tissue-none of his extensive knowledge had prepared him for the enormity of what it would _feel_ like to know the woman he loved carried his child under her heart. That their love had created a life and he could feel it flutter under his palms. That he could see and feel her body changing to accommodate his daughter. That she would choose to share this with _him_.

His hands moved over her lovingly. The doctor in him noted the changes in her body with clinical objectiveness. The man in him was not nearly as detached; especially with the way her hips were moving so erotically against his. His hands slid up to cover her breasts. They were fuller, heavier in his palms and her nipples were darker. He brushed them gently with the pad of his thumb.

So many changes. He'd only been away a month. He was glad the long winter months ahead would allow him to remain at her side. He didn't want to miss a minute more of this precious time with her. "You-" He swallowed hard as she rocked against him torturously. "You are already different, wife. Fuller." He gave her a gentle squeeze to emphasize his words.

A playful smile touched her features. "And I remember just how much you liked that particular change, husband."

She could tell that under his blue fur his face was heating, but his smile only got bigger. "I most certainly do." Remembering that she was more tender now, he adjusted his touch accordingly. He also remembered that she'd particularly enjoyed his mouth on her as her sensitivity had increased and he wanted to lift his head and taste her, but the acute ache in his cracked ribs kept him flat against the bed. "I wish-"

"I know very well what you wish." Her eyes flashed prettily and the motion of her hips grew more insistent as he became slick with her desire. "But you will have to be content with letting me do all the work until you are healed."

He could hear the teasing in her voice, but the idea of her doing _all_ the work made him a little uncomfortable. It wasn't that her attentions were unwelcome; he simply couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that giving him pleasure gave her pleasure. Not even after all this time. He still felt like he needed to give as much - or more - than he took.

"Henry?" Though soft, her voice was thick with need. "I love you." Her fingers ghosted across her stomach. "You give us so much. Let me give you this." Her words, combined with the fluid motion of her hips, were almost more than he could stand. "I want to give you this." She lowered her head and kissed him deeply before sitting up to meet his eyes once again. "I _need_ to give you this." Her voice was breathless and her fingers were digging into his shoulders as she raised herself up off his hips. "Let me?"

A purely male smile touched his mouth as he put his thumb at the base of his thick erection and pushed himself upwards in silent invitation. She sank down slowly, fitting just the velvety tip inside her. Stars, she was exquisite, but he wanted more. "_All_ the work, my love?" He flexed his hips, watching with heavy lidded eyes as he slowly began to push himself inside her, bit by delicious cerulean bit.

Her soft chuckle melted into another, more intimate sound. "Mmmm..." He might have resisted initially, but he knew his wife and he knew that sound. "Henry... _more_." She was playing dirty. She knew what saying his name like that did to him. He was suddenly very glad that his injuries prevented him from being more aggressive with her. He was having a hard enough time maintaining control as it was, even after his earlier release.

Always conscious of hurting her, he put his hands on her hips to guide her descent. "Heavens..." She was so small and tight he thought he might lose his mind before he was fully seated inside her. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, tongue brushing against the tips of his fangs as he shuddered at the exquisite sensation as her body enveloped his in velvet fire. "You can take all of me, my love." His words were soft. "I belong here, inside you." He wasn't sure if the whispered words were for himself or for her. He only knew he found something with her he never thought he'd have, and his body ached for the sanctuary and acceptance only she could give him.

Finally her hips sat flush against his and he could feel her muscles clench greedily around him. "Despite how you try to hide it, husband, I know how much you hurt." She leaned forward and dragged her tongue over his full bottom lip. "Just lie back and let me make you feel good." Her heated words did strange wonderful things to his insides and he felt himself throb heavily inside her in answer.

She smiled at the power she had over his massive body. He so rarely let _her_ make love to _him_. "I'm going to make you feel very, very good, Henry." He shivered as much from the words as he did from the feeling of her breath against his ear and from the slick wet heat of her body. "And when I'm done and you're all shaky and trembling... I'm going to do it again." She paused to kiss him. "And again." She nipped him. "And again."

"Noriko." Her name left his lips in a rush and there was a desperate ache in his voice.

"Mmmm... Shhh, Henry. Just feel." Murmuring soft words of love, she began to move over him, taking him into herself again and again as the flames drove them both higher. The candle beside their bed sputtered and went out, leaving them in inky blackness. Emboldened by the darkness, he gave himself over to her completely. He gasped and arched under her, thrusting helplessly as she rode him with wild abandon, seeking to push him beyond himself and into the stars.

Her rhythm became erratic as she neared the edge. "Come with me, love." She whispered the words against his lips and he sealed his mouth to hers to catch her cry as her body convulsed around his full, heavy flesh. He tore his mouth away, panting hard. His hands went to her hips, pressing her firmly against him as he held himself deep inside and came with a muffled groan. Ecstasy seared through him, white and hot, sending him soaring outside of himself as his body jerked rhythmically with the intense pleasure of his release.

There was nothing in this world like flying with her. All his life he'd thirsted for knowledge, and yet he had discovered the most profound moments in his life came when he let his body and his mind fall away and he simply _felt_. He was outside himself, outside the body he'd always been so self-conscious of, in a place where they only existed as waves of fire breaking against each other as they cradled their unborn child between them.

Underneath her body, she could feel him trembling and she smiled against his neck as she moved to press tiny kisses against the pulse beating so strongly at the base of his throat. How she loved this gentle man. She almost lost him today. The fear of it made her heart seize even now. She slid sensuously against him, nuzzling and kissing as she went. She'd promised him he would be hers again and again tonight. That she had the power to make such a powerful man tremble never ceased to amaze her. That he could place his gentle soul into her hands for safekeeping humbled her beyond measure. He was the best of men.

While the others in the camp slept in the inky blackness, the two lovers moved together once again, whispering to each other of things only understood by two people who share the same heart as they flew again among the indigo stars.


	13. Red Shades and Rabbits

**Red Shades and Rabbits**

_Congitur ad lacrimas oculos, dum cor dolet intus._  
The eye is driven to tears when the heart grieves within.

"Logan!"

The frantic cry broke the still quiet of the night, jarring Scott awake. He'd been hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to deal with the bodies Hank had left behind this afternoon, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. With the ease born of a motion repeated countless times, he slipped off his sleep goggles and reached blindly for his glasses.

"Logan!"

He'd rolled out of bed and had a pair of pants pulled on over his naked body almost before her second cry faded. It was softer than the first one and he probably wouldn't have heard it if the walls in the base houses weren't so thin. He could have chosen a larger, nicer home, but he preferred to leave those for the men with families. This small, neat house suited him and he quickly made his way down the short hall to the other bedroom.

Hearing muffled sobs through the door, he knocked softly and entered the tiny bedroom. The sight that met his eyes made his chest ache. Rogue was in bed, huddled up against the headboard with her knees drawn up to her chest and she was shaking like a leaf. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around Logan's tags and there were tears in her wide dark eyes. She looked for all the world like a scared rabbit - not knowing if it was better to freeze or to bolt.

"How do you know _that_ name?" Her scared eyes flicked to his face and Scott immediately wished he hadn't said the first thing that had come to his mind. He didn't have much experience with children. He was much more comfortable protecting them than he was comforting them, and he was quickly realizing he couldn't approach this situation in his usual straightforward, brisk manner.

"I- I'm sorry. I know it's a secret. I didn't mean to tell." If anything, she folded in even further on herself, hiding deeper in the blankets until just her face peeped out. Scott saw the motion and mentally kicked himself for making an already bad situation worse.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't need to hide. I know you didn't mean to tell." He swallowed hard. She wasn't the only one who had nightmares and woke up screaming. There were reasons he lived alone - beyond the obvious, anyway. "It's okay. Logan told me his name a long time ago."

Her voice got very small. "You- You're not gonna hit me, are you?" He looked very big, an imposing figure standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob. He wasn't wearing a shirt and she could see the powerful muscles in his arms and chest flex when he stiffened at her words. He looked very different from her father who was shorter, hairier and thicker through the middle, but to a small terrified child that hardly mattered.

"No, I'm not." He stepped inside but left the door open so she wouldn't feel trapped. The same way Charles had done for him so long ago. "Nobody's ever going to hit you again, Rogue, and even if they tried, they'd have to come through me first." His heart ached for her. He too remembered what it was like to be small and weak and unable to protect himself from people who were bigger and stronger - but he didn't have that problem anymore, and as long as he was breathing, she wouldn't either.

Marie was silent a long moment while she considered that, deciding whether or not she could take his words at face value. Finally, she seemed to relax a little.

"He said the same thing."

"Who? Logan?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded. "And he gave me these." She indicated to the tags she still had clenched in her fist. "To protect me." Marie looked at the chain around Scott's neck and wondered if he wore that chain with the ring on it for the same reason, but she didn't want to ask.

Scott bit back a smile as he pictured Logan, always so gruff and bristly, being so gentle with a small child. It was hard to imagine someone so hardened being capable of such tenderness. He sobered a little when he realized he had the same capacity for tenderness where Kitty was concerned, and that he was just as inclined to share his softer side with her. He unconsciously touched the ring resting on his breastbone. He'd never liked wearing anything around his neck, but despite the fact that the delicate filigree on the ring had caught more than a few chest hairs, he never ever took it off. Not ever.

Looking at her now, he understood he needed to be able to find some of that same tenderness for Rogue. Not quite in the same way. It wouldn't ever shift to romance, but he knew he was going to have to open his heart and let this scared little girl in if they were every going to find a path forward.

"Can I sit?" Scott pointed to the end of Marie's bed. He waited for her nod before he moved any closer. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her and he knew he could be a little intimidating between his size, his glasses and the scars.

_Shit. The scars_.

He'd gotten too used to living alone. He should have remembered to put a shirt on before coming in here. He gave a small resigned sigh as he sat down on the end of her bed. She might as well get used to seeing them if she was going to be living with him for the next ten years. They were as much a part of him as his glasses now, and just as permanent.

Scott saw where she was looking and touched his damaged shoulder with one hand. He wasn't ashamed of his scars. He'd earned them honorably. He just hated it when people looked on him with pity or when they scared small children. He didn't like being a monster any more now than he had when he was fifteen and his eyes had ceased to be blue and had become as red as the very devil and just as deadly. He could still hear the names they called him ringing in his ears.

_Freak. Mutie. Demon_.

But he wasn't that young, scared boy any longer. He was a man - and a dangerous one at that. Nobody called him names anymore. Now they called him Sir and respected his power because it kept it them safe.

He sighed softly. It had been a long, long time since he'd looked at himself through someone else's eyes. He wondered what Rogue thought when she looked at him. He had a warrior's body, scarred and battle hardened. He didn't have the heavy bulk that Logan did, but his body was lean and hard, honed into an efficient weapon through countless hours of training and more fights than he cared to remember. Back at the mansion, in what seemed almost a lifetime ago, Logan used to roll his eyes and call him a 'pretty-boy' when the girls flirted with him.

He knew women still found him attractive, but he'd never be 'pretty' again. The Extermination Squads had taken care of that. He had a thin white scar that ran from just above his left eyebrow down over his cheek and then curved under his jaw. The only thing that had saved his eye was the fact he'd been firing an optical blast at the time and the shrapnel that had cut his face had disintegrated in the beam before it could reach his eye.

It hadn't saved his face - or his shoulder, though. That was the worst of it. It wasn't a thin white scar like on his face. The front of his left shoulder was crisscrossed with ugly red scars where he'd attempted to take the blast meant for Charles. He'd failed. Charles had been killed and he'd forever carry the reminder that he'd been too slow, too green in battle to save the man he'd considered a second father. He breathed in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wasn't green anymore, and woe be it unto anyone who threatened his family now. All the mercy had been burned out of him years ago. There was very little softness in him now and he guarded it carefully. He must not lose the last of it. Kitty deserved a man capable of love.

Scott smiled gently at Marie and let his hand fall away from his shoulder. "You can ask about it if you want." He tried not to make the offer sound awkward, although that's exactly how he felt. He had a hard enough time feeling comfortable around adults. This was infinitely worse. Children tended to see more clearly and also tended to be far more honest than adults. Part of him liked that directness, but it still made him uncomfortable. Pushing his unease aside, he tried to appear calm and open despite the fact that he wanted to be anywhere but here, dealing with this.

He abhorred being a spectacle, and with good reason. He'd never forget the shame and guilt and utter terror he'd felt when his powers manifested at school. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, blind and helpless, he'd felt their stares of condemnation as clearly as if he'd seen them with his own eyes.

Marie looked at him a long moment - not with pity or with embarrassment like some adults did. Her intense gaze simply held a child's innocent curiosity. He knew instinctively she wouldn't have been one of the ones calling him names that day. Nor would she have been one of the quiet ones feeling sorry for the poor blind boy, arms flailing wildly around him for something, _anything_ to hold on to. She would have been one of the ones to hold out her hand for him to grab so he would have _someone_ to hang onto. A lifeline in a sea of confusion. Only two people had done so that day. He still remembered their names, and he still lit a candle for them each Christmas.

Through his shield of red, Scott watched her consider his offer to ask about his scars. She was quiet and her nose crinkled a little while she thought. She looked away from his shoulder to his face and simply asked. "Does it hurt?"

_Every time I think about Charles_.

His eyebrows rose above his glasses. He couldn't help but be a little startled both by his internal answer and by her question. People always asked how it happened or who he'd killed - something along that vein. Nobody had ever asked him if it hurt. It didn't escape his notice that she hadn't asked '_did_ it hurt' but '_does_ it hurt'. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him if he hurt. Everyone simply assumed that because he showed no emotion that he felt no pain. Cyclops. The Tinman without a heart. The robot who felt nothing. Christ, how wrong they were.

He shrugged. "Not really. It was a long time ago."

He studied her through the ruby quartz. She wasn't as scared as she had been, but he could still see her eyes were wet and she was sniffling a little. He wasn't too sure how to handle this situation so he just jumped in.

_Sink or swim, Summers_.

He gestured to her wet eyes. "Bad dream?"

She nodded and her eyes filled again with tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He watched as she shook her head and her knuckles were white where she held the tags. "You sure?"

"No. I... No. He-" She paused. "Logan said he was gonna send me to his special friend." Her breath hitched. "He said I'd be safe and his special friend would take care of me." Tears fell from her long dark lashes. "He didn't tell me the name though." She sniffed and rubbed at her nose. "I don't know who it is."

Scott's heart went out to her. Scared and alone, she didn't know who to turn to. She'd obviously decided she could trust the person Logan was sending her to - the one who _he_ trusted - but Logan hadn't named him specifically and she was reluctant to trust anyone else. Poor kid. Scott knew Hank could probably make her feel better, but he also knew what Hank was doing tonight and he wouldn't interrupt him for something he should handle on his own. Sometimes, being the 'fearless' leader sucked mightily.

He regretted not being able to take the time to sit down and explain everything to her earlier today. He'd told her she would be staying with him and had gotten her settled in, but a pressing matter had pulled him away before he'd had a chance to really talk to her and she'd been asleep when he returned. A splinter group of militia had been sighted outside the perimeter near where he'd destroyed their camp. They had been dealt with swiftly and without mercy. More death. Another black mark on his soul. He'd have rather stayed and talked with her, and that was saying something.

As difficult and uncomfortable as it was for him, he knew he needed to work this out with her tonight. She needed to trust him and to understand that he'd always be there when she needed him. He simply didn't have the luxury of holding this small child at arm's length the way he did with everyone else. She was too important.

"Rogue? That 'special friend' Logan was talking about - that's me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I should have. I never want you to feel alone or afraid here." The look on her face was clearly disbelieving. He could tell she desperately wanted to trust him, but she needed something a little more substantial than a few words from a virtual stranger before she'd let herself believe him. Part of him was proud of her strength. The other part of him that identified with what she was feeling ached for her. An idea formed in his mind and he smiled. "I can prove it."

Her eyebrows rose. "How?" He could hear the desperation in her whisper.

He turned around very slowly and showed her the scars high on the back of his right shoulder blade. He heard her suck in her breath and then to his surprise he felt her small fingers trace the three dark lines.

"You know that mark." It was a statement not a question.

"Logan's mark. Like on the helicopter." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Scott smiled as he turned around. "Yes. Exactly." He could tell she was wavering. "Do you remember what Hank told you about the helicopter?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He said Logan cut it with his claws when he was protecting it while you and Hank got the kids inside."

"That's true. What he didn't tell you was that when Logan's claws cut through the fuselage, he accidentally got me too." God, how that had hurt. It hadn't been deep, but the razor sharp adamantium had sliced through his skin with surgical precision. As busy as he was providing cover, he hadn't noticed the cuts until after the metal had left his skin - at which point they'd begun stinging like a fiery bitch from hell. A fine counterpoint to the excruciating agony in his ruined shoulder and cheek.

Between his extensive injuries and the pain of losing Charles, flying the helicopter had been difficult in the extreme. They'd been incredibly lucky he hadn't passed out from blood loss before he'd landed the damn thing. Sometimes he wondered if all that kept him in the air was the fact Logan never would have let him live down another bad landing. He _still_ hadn't stopped ribbing him for the_ single_ rough landing he'd made. Never mind that he'd only been flying the bird for nine months and military pilots trained for _years_ to do what he had accomplished in a little over six months.

_Bastard_.

Despite all the marks his body carried from that day, it was those three shallow scars he was proudest of. He'd held his shit together and gotten fifteen children to safety that horrible afternoon. He'd been barely more than a child himself, barely nineteen; all cocksure swagger and bravado. All of them had thought they'd left Logan behind to die. With the impetuousness of youth, Scott had hidden those cuts from Hank and later that night, he'd rubbed them with charcoal and ashes from their campfire so the scars would be dark and lasting. A poor man's tattoo. He'd wanted a lasting tribute to Logan. Something tangible so he'd never forget the only reason he drew breath was because of Logan's sacrifice. He felt no shame in carrying the mark of a man who'd offered his life in return for theirs and he still didn't today even though Logan had survived against all odds.

Scott cracked a smiled. Logan had been unconscious nearly a month after he staggered into their makeshift camp. His face had been the first thing Logan saw when he woke up. He still remembered Logan's exact words.

_'Fuck. I'm in hell. Lookin' at Summers' mug for all eternity. Ain't nothin' worse than that.'_

Scott chuckled inwardly as he remembered his own answer.

_'Yeah? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but you're still with us, sunshine. They all say you're lucky. Personally, I think you're just too big a bastard to bite it helping a bunch of kids.' _

And that was that.

Logan's laughter had pinched off in a fit of coughing and Scott's 'pretty-boy' smile had been blinding. That was the first day he hadn't minded the itching on his shoulder blade as his scars and 'tattoo' healed.

Still smiling, Scott imparted one last bit of the story in a confidential tone. "I didn't ever tell him about the marks, though, because he'd hate it if he knew he hurt someone he cared about." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "See? In a way, I'm his too. This proves it right here." It galled him to say it but she needed to hear it so he sucked it up and pushed the words out.

That he'd kept it a secret to keep from hurting Logan sealed it for Marie. Scott was caught totally unaware when she flung himself into his lap and wrapped her small arms tightly around his neck. He very nearly bolted from the room. His heart beat frantically in his chest and behind his glasses, his eyes were screwed tightly shut. He'd warned her about his 'gift' the same way he warned all new people, but apparently it didn't scare her to be close to him. She didn't seem to notice that he was breathing hard and his face was turned away from hers - an automatic precaution whenever someone unexpectedly got too close. It had been a long, _long_ time since anyone had caught him that unaware. He still had nightmares about what would happen if there was no ruby quartz between him and the world.

Marie shook with silent sobs and he rubbed her back gently. It was surprisingly soothing for him too. He remembered Charles doing that for him and he was glad he could do that for her now. "It's okay. You're safe." He hugged her a little tighter and she snuggled into his solid strength. "You want to tell me about that dream now?"

"I- I saw them."

"Saw who, rabbit?" He'd never been the kind of man who called people honey or darling or any one of a hundred other nicknames he'd heard over the years, but 'rabbit' just seemed to fit her and some part of him recognized he needed to form a connection with her that nobody else had - and she did look and feel like a scared rabbit. Her heart was beating too fast inside her chest and her wide dark eyes were full of fear.

When he was very young, he'd had a bunny for a pet. It wasn't as good as a dog, but his father was in the military and it was hard to move pets all around the country. At least it had been a bunny and not a fish. Scott smiled at the memory. He hadn't thought of 'Peter' in a long time. A terribly unimaginative name to be sure, but he'd only been five and he'd wanted a dog. Instead he'd gotten Peter.

Come to think of it, Peter had been dark with ridiculously floppy ears and a white spot on his chest. Looking at the tiny girl in his arms dressed in one of his old t-shirts with her streaked hair washed and brushed, it was little wonder why that name had sprung to mind. Scott sighed inwardly. Sometimes even he got tired of his mind having to have an explanation for _everything_.

Her voice was small and muffled against his chest. "I saw the men- the men I- I-"

"The ones you shot?" He asked quietly. He felt her nod under his chin and hugged her a little tighter. Every soldier, no matter how battle hardened, always remembered their first kill. He was sorry her first had come at such a young age. "I remember the first man I shot, too." Scott sighed. "And like you, I did it to save a life. The first man I ever shot was going to kill Hank." He could feel her quiet as she listened to his words. "I still wish it didn't have to be that way-" and God, did he. His hands were as red as his eyes with the blood of the men he'd killed. "But I know I made the right choice."

"How? How do you know?"

He stroked her hair gently. "I know because if I hadn't shot him, that man would have lived and continued to kill innocent people. I chose to save Hank, and he's spent his life saving innocent people." He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. "If I had made a different choice, all those people who Hank has saved over the years wouldn't be alive today."

"People like me?"

It hadn't been his intention that she make that particular connection, but it was good she had. It would serve to reinforce a very important lesson for someone who would one day be a very powerful leader in her own right. "Yes, people like you. And me." He smiled. "Now you have a chance to grow up and help save other people the way Hank saved you."

"Like how I helped Jubes?" She ventured hesitantly.

"Yes, exactly the way you helped Jubilee."

She was quiet a long time while she digested that. Eventually she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed against his chest. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything, rabbit. Logan sent you to me for a reason. He knew that I'd always do my best to protect you and teach you about the things you'll need to know to help him lead when you're grown up. He trusts me and I want you to know you can trust me, too. I promise that I'll always listen no matter what you want to tell me and I'll do my best to understand." He gave her a soft squeeze. "You and me, we're a team now."

God, how that terrified him, while at the same time made him feel warm inside. He'd always been alone and now he was inexorably bound to this small child, not just until she was eighteen, but all their lives. Scott Summers did not give his loyalty easily, but once he did, it was there for the duration. "And we'll always be a team, even after you grow up and go back to Logan. I'll always be here if you need me. Okay?"

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Marie nodded solemnly. "Okay." She smiled a shy smile. "I like being a team with you. I like your smile. And you smell good. And you have a cool guitar." It was more than just that, but that was about all she could articulate. She liked him because he made her feel safe. And he _saw_ her, really saw her. She was not an annoyance or a burden to be ignored until he wanted something from her. He was so different from her father. He listened to her. She liked that, too.

He chuckled at that. "I like being a team with you too. And I can teach you to play the guitar if you want, rabbit." And surprisingly enough, that was the truth. He did like it - in a scary turn-his-life-upside-down kind of way.

"Yes, please. And it's Marie," she said softly. She sat up so she could look into his glasses. "I wanted to tell you that my real name's Marie." Her nose scrunched up while she thought about it before adding, "You should know it 'cause we're a team now."

He was surprised that she'd shared her true name with him. From what Hank had told him, the only other person who knew it was Logan. "I'm Scott." He stroked her hair gently. "But Logan calls me Slim."

"Slim?"

"Yup, or Summers or Scooter or One-Eye if he's really in a mood." He felt her giggle against his chest. Cyke. Slick. Dick. Pansy-ass. Fuckhead. The list was long and distinguished.

"One-Eye? Is that 'cause you wear glasses all the time?"

God, out of the mouth of babes. "Well, kind of. I do wear glasses because of my gift, but Logan just likes to call me that because he likes to tease the people he cares about."

_And because the bastard has always taken an obscene amount of pleasure in needling me_.

The best explanation he'd been able to come up with was that things hadn't ever been easy between them because Logan recognized Scott was the only one who had a real shot at challenging his position as alpha.

Well, they were both alphas now, and it was by no mistake that they'd put a thousand miles between them. Scott chuckled.

"Logan's teasing is sort of his secret way of telling you he likes you." That wasn't a lie. Logan didn't 'play' with people he didn't like. They just got silence and the business end of his claws.

"He must tease you a lot, huh?"

Behind ruby quartz, Scott's eyes rolled. "You have no idea."

Her nose scrunched up again while she thought about something. "I guess I better learn how to do that then. I wouldn't want him thinking I didn't like him."

The famous Summers' smile spread across Scott's face. "You know, rabbit, I think that's an excellent idea." Scott smiled inwardly. He knew _just_ the person to teach her. He'd never do anything to jeopardize Logan's relationship with Marie, but he'd take a great amount of pleasure into shaping her into someone who could stand strongly in her own right and someone who could not only take Logan's verbal sparring without blinking an eye, but dish it out as well.

"Good." She smiled and then her face grew more serious as her tiny fingers touched the ring resting over his heart. She traced the delicate golden circle with a shy finger and then wrapped her hand around the tags once more. "Is your necklace like mine?"

"Like yours?"

"Does it protect you?"

Scott's jaw clenched momentarily and his chest got tight. How to answer that question? He wasn't even sure he was ready to admit to himself why he wore it, but he knew he had to give her an answer. He'd promised to be there for her and he knew as difficult as it was for him, he was going to have to let her inside his tough, scarred shell.

He could feel the first stirrings of feelings for the girl, outside of identifying with her pain. It was less paternal and more fraternal. He was barely twenty-six. While he was a father to the whole camp in many ways, he wasn't yet ready to embrace the role in a more intimate way. But he'd always wanted a little sister. It was a different dynamic than a daughter and it felt… better. Easier. The fit was just right. Not comfortable yet, but he could tell that it would grow into that over time.

"Yes, but in a different way than Logan's tags protect you." He took a deep steadying breath and let it out slowly as he rubbed the ring between his fingers. "Nobody gave me this to wear. It belongs to me."

"So how does it protect you then?"

Scott was suddenly thankful that the shades hid his eyes. This was harder than he thought. "You know how someday you will go and be with Logan?" He waited for her nod. "Well, one day when Kitty's old enough, she's going to come here and be with me."

"Are you gonna marry her?"

"Yes, I am." There was absolutely no hesitation in his words. "Just like Logan is going to marry you someday." He waited for some kind of reaction, but she only looked thoughtful for a long moment and then shrugged.

"I'm his and he's mine so I guess that makes sense."

Scott let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Apparently whatever Logan had told her when he'd given her the tags had made a pretty strong impression, strong enough for her to already be thinking of him as hers and vice versa.

_Thank God_.

He didn't think he had it in him to deal with one more emotional crisis tonight.

"That's right. You belong to each other like Kitty belongs to me."

"You belong to her too."

He was shaken a little by the sheer gravity of her tone. He hadn't thought about it like that, but she was not wrong.

"You're right. I do." Nodding, he fingered the ring and smiled at Marie. "This is the ring I'm going to give her someday. I wear it because it helps me to remember that someday, I'll have somebody to love me and help me run my camp the way you'll love Logan and help him run his camp when you're all grown up." He didn't need to tell her Logan was the boss. All mutants left had heard of the camps.

And the ruthless men who ran them.

Marie nodded. "So you know you're not alone." She said it so matter-of-factly. Like it had never occurred to her that there could be another reason for wearing them.

Six little words. So simple and yet so achingly true. They hit him like a sledgehammer and the fearless leader only nodded because sometimes he wasn't fearless. Sometimes he was just a man who was tired of walking his road alone, and sometimes his throat was just too tight to speak.

The two of them sat there a long time that night. There was no more talking. They simply took comfort in each other's company as they both held onto the small bits of metal that reminded each of them they weren't alone any longer.


	14. Reflections in Red

**Reflections in Red**

_Dum spiro, spero_.  
As long as I breathe, I hope.

Comforted by Scott's strong, secure presence, Marie's breathing eventually evened out and she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, curled against Scott's chest like the rabbit he'd named her for. Wishing for the same kind of blissful sleep, but knowing it wouldn't be coming to him tonight, Scott carefully placed Marie back in the bed and pulled the covers up over her tiny frame, a little surprised by the rush of familial emotions that assaulted him as he tucked her in. It was a completely foreign experience for him and more than a little unnerving. While he ran this base and looked after all the people within it, there was an emotional distance inherent in his position as camp leader that made caring for them entirely different than caring for Marie.

When dealing with the people who looked to him on a daily basis for protection, that emotional distance was a godsend. If he allowed himself to feel each person's individual hurts and woes, he'd be so mired in grief that it would make functioning as a leader impossible. By the same token, the emotional distance he relied upon so heavily in his day-to-day dealings with people would cripple his relationship with Marie. Scott sighed heavily as he gave his small charge one last look and softly pulled her door shut behind him.

God, how he wished he'd had more time with Charles. His guidance would be without measure now. Charles had not only taught him how to use his mutation to the best of his ability, but he'd also taught him the rudimentary elements of command while helping him hone his natural leadership abilities. As a boy of eighteen, carving out a place for himself and those dependent on him for survival, those lessons had been invaluable. But now, as he took his first tentative steps into what was essentially fatherhood, he wished he'd had the presence of mind at fifteen to absorb an entirely different kind of wisdom from Charles.

What he wouldn't give to exchange just a few words with his old mentor now. What did he know about being the head of a nuclear family? He could keep the people under his protection safe, could provide for them, could pull his team's asses though a shit-storm of Extermination Squads with minimal casualties. He had a gift for tactical thinking and could calculate probables and trajectories as well as, if not better than, Hank. He knew how to survive off the land and how to teach others to do the same. Hell, he could take apart and rebuild nearly anything with an engine in it... but he had absolutely no idea how to raise a child. And for a man who liked concrete, logical answers, in his mind, this pseudo-fatherhood was just one big jumble of unanswered questions. He didn't feel like a father, but he hoped he could be a passably decent big brother.

Back in his own room, Scott swiftly divested himself of his pants and slid back into bed, shivering as his large body slowly warmed the chill from icy sheets. He thought better of it a moment later and got up and put on some boxers before slipping back into bed. Who knew when Marie might need him again?

It hadn't even been one night and things were already changing. The man who had so few personal comforts was already having to give some of them up to accommodate the addition of Marie to his home and his life. Dammit. He liked sleeping naked and he couldn't help but feel a little resentful about the change. On the other hand, there was something settling about not being the only person sleeping under this roof.

Despite all the things weighing heavily on his mind tonight, he couldn't help but wish he hadn't returned to an empty bed. He was only twenty-six for God's sake. He was fit and healthy, a young man in the prime of his life. It was only natural for his thoughts to wander to women and sex. And they did so. Often. Tonight was no exception.

Though it felt a little odd to transition from being the familial rock Marie needed to being a man with needs and desires of his own, Scott let his mind wander a bit. He indulged himself in fantasies about how nice it would have been to return to bed tonight to find warm sheets and an even warmer woman waiting for him. While he had the same graphic, carnal fantasies most men had, what he really longed for was a partner. Someone to share his life with, both in bed and out; a lover and a friend. Satisfying a physical need for release was one thing, satisfying an emotional desire for a life partner was another animal entirely.

It wasn't that he was totally lacking in feminine company. He did have a woman, but their situation was... _unique_, even for this time and place. To begin with, she was human. That was part of the reason they did not live openly together. The other mutants at the base knew of her existence, but left her in peace, partly because she was the leader's woman and partly because she made herself as unobtrusive as possible. In fact, she lived an almost hermitlike existence.

Scott smiled as he thought of her. Eve. The first woman. The name she'd chosen for herself was fitting, seeing as how she'd been at this base when he'd taken possession of it seven years ago. Scott's smile faded at the memory. That battle hadn't been pretty. Meticulous reconnaissance on his part had shown the ragtag band of men holding this ground to be little better than animals, a handful of the base's original complement of soldiers who'd apparently proved immune to Legacy. They did not, however, prove immune to his optic blasts. He felt no guilt for dispatching them as he had, coldly and with exacting precision. After he'd secured the base, his stomach had turned at what he found below in some of the lower levels. Eve and her mother had been the last in a long line of human women the men had tortured and raped for sport.

Eve's mother had done what she could to spare her daughter the worst of it, but Eve too had known her share of pain. She was lucky enough to have been spared the multiple rapes her mother had endured, but someone had cut her face up badly. From the left, she was flawlessly beautiful; a pale blue eye under a gently arched brow, creamy skin, soft honey-brown hair. It was only when one looked at her from the right that they saw the horrible crisscrossing of thick scars that marred her face. They had faded over the years from a vivid, angry red to a softer purply-pink, but no amount of time would ever bring back sight to her opaque right eye or bring back her missing right ear.

Even after all these years, Eve had never told him her real name, or exactly what had happened to her before he'd saved her, but Scott knew what damage from a box-cutter looked like and there was no mistaking what had caused her crude scars. Even though he'd intended the base to be a haven _solely_ for mutants, Scott found he didn't have the heart to force her to leave, especially after her mother had died from her extensive wounds shortly after he'd taken control of the base. It was as if once she'd realized her daughter was safe, the fragile threads holding her to this life had been sheered away. In the wake of her mother's death, he'd allowed Eve to stay on and instructed Hank to look after her injuries.

That decision had proved to be incredibly lucky. While treating Eve, Hank had discovered she carried a rare, dormant form of the Legacy virus. It had been his first opportunity to study the mutated strain of Legacy that attacked human physiology. Hank could find no reason for her immunity, but studying it over the course of nearly seven years had given him a unique understanding of the disease, how it worked, how it spread and ultimately, how to fight it.

Unfortunately for Eve, it was also something of a ticking time bomb. She knew full well someday the virus that had lain dormant inside her for years might reassert itself. She didn't carry the strain harmful to mutants, but she knew that ultimately, it didn't matter. Eve was a realist. Even if she'd wanted to be with Scott, he could never have a mate like her. Not only was she disfigured; she was also a human and a carrier of the disease that had ravaged mutantkind worldwide. They would never accept her, and truthfully, she had no desire to lead anyone. She only wanted to be left alone.

While she was a virtual hermit, rarely wandering out of the small cabin she lived in, she did welcome Scott's visits. He was a kind man who treated her with respect. She also felt a kinship with him born of similar experiences. Though his scars were nowhere near as horrific as hers, the fact that his face was also imperfect put her at ease with him in a way no words ever could. Although they enjoyed each other's company and eased each other's loneliness, they both knew she wasn't the woman for him. They were friends and on occasion lovers, but they were not _in_ love. They were simply two people giving as much of themselves as they could to make the most of a difficult situation.

Scott shifted uncomfortably and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could go to Eve tonight, but he knew that Marie's presence made that all but impossible now. Another change. For a man so used to being in control, he was feeling decidedly off balance after the day's events. Watching Hank with Noriko this afternoon had made him feel both jealousy and envy, but also a sense of sadness that they shared something he didn't have and wouldn't have until Kitty was of age.

Rationally, he knew intimacy with Eve wasn't a permanent fix for that hollow, empty feeling inside him, but he also knew he'd feel better after visiting her, partly because of the physical release sex would bring him and partly because, for the time he was with her, he didn't have to be Cyclops. He could simply be a man spending a few hours with a woman who brought his tired soul a small measure of peace. Despite that, he'd never let her see all of him, to truly see_ into_ him. He was guarded even with her. Even then, there was distance. In some ways, it made the time they spent together sweeter. Easier. It wasn't two adults giving all they had. It was two damaged people giving what scraps they could while still keeping their walls strong.

Scott's full, sensual lips turned up in a small smile. He wasn't too sure he brought Eve peace-pleasure, maybe, but not peace. They might not be in love, but their odd relationship did work. He gave her security and kindness and she gave him a safe haven of sorts to just be a man and not a leader for a little while. He could be man with her, but he was rarely _Scott_. He almost never gave up intimate pieces of himself despite the pleasure they found together.

And truthfully, he knew she'd have been lonely without his companionship. Even if his status as the base's leader didn't keep everyone else away, she'd have wanted him to be the man in her life for another reason-when he was intimate with her, he never wore his glasses. For a small span of time, she got to pretend she was once again whole and beautiful. It was only then, when he was truly blind, that she could let her self-consciousness go enough to be intimate with him. It was a price he willingly paid for the pleasure it brought to each of them.

And it was a good arrangement. They met each other's immediate physical needs and offered each other a bit of respite from the terrible loneliness felt by so many in this war-torn, disease-ravaged world. She was also someone with whom he could be more candid than was usually possible, even with his close friends. Not completely candid, but her unique perspective as an 'outsider' was quite valuable. They spent as much time talking in bed as they did having sex there.

Still, they had exchanged a rare few emotional intimacies over the years. She knew more about him than anyone, except perhaps Hank. Eve knew a little about his past and about his plans for the future. She knew he'd sent Rogue to meet Logan with the hopes he would see the same thing in Rogue that he'd seen in Kitty. Eve knew about Kitty too. And she knew why he now wore a ring on a chain around his neck.

That had been the first tangible change, he realized. The first harbinger of the things to come. That little circle of precious metal between them when they were intimate. Falling onto her as he moved over her. Dragging across her skin as he thrust and shuddered.

While it might seem odd that he spoke of his future mate with his current lover, he was as much a realist as she, and just as pragmatic. And the fact was, besides Hank, she was his only real confidante. To be frank, there were things that men just didn't speak about with each other. Some things were easier shared with a woman. Over the years, Eve's input and uniquely feminine perspective had been invaluable to him both as a leader and as a man. She was a good friend. That above all.

Tonight, Scott's emotions were a jumble of things, all seemingly at odds with each other. He felt relief that Hank and his two small charges had made it safely back to the base. He felt pride in both Bobby and Noriko for the job they'd done this afternoon. He felt envy and longing for what he knew Hank and Noriko were sharing together this night. God, how he wished for a true partner to ease his burden and to share the joys of life the same way they did. He felt uncertainty about his new position as the head of a family that now included Marie. He felt gratitude towards Logan for accepting Kitty and giving her his protection.

He felt relief that Hank, Rogue and Jubilee had returned safely and he had wasted no time in using their unreliable internet connection to relay the information to Logan that his mate was safe. He felt amusement and surprise at the reply. The caustic tone was classic Logan, but the words themselves gave him pause. Genuine thanks from the Wolverine? There was a first time for everything, it seemed.

What he felt for Kitty was more complex. It was part hope that he'd made the right choice, part excitement that he might one day have what Hank and Noriko did, and part frustration that he'd have to wait years before he'd even begin to have those answers. What he felt for Eve was similarly complex, but also bittersweet. If the virus did not take her from him unexpectedly, it would be several years before their odd relationship ended, but they both knew it would end, and for as much as he was looking forward to a true partnership with Kitty, he loathed the idea of causing Eve even the slightest bit of hurt. He might not love her, but he cared for her in his own way and she'd been hurt enough in life already.

Still, she knew as well as he did that he needed the kind of partner she couldn't and wouldn't be-and in truth, the kind she didn't want to be. He and Eve, they were the road, before it diverged in the wood. Eve would take the one less traveled. Scott would blaze his own. They had long since made their peace with that.

Scott switched from his glasses to his sleep goggles and rolled to his stomach, sighing heavily. His body needed sleep, but his brain wouldn't slow down, and on top of everything else resting so heavily on his heart and mind, he also felt the urge to indulge his more base, carnal desires. It was a need that would go unanswered this night, despite the urgings of his body and the heavy pressure building uncomfortably between his legs. A solitary release would appease the demands of his body, but it would leave him feeling even more alone than ever when he finished and lay there sweaty and breathing hard with nobody to wrap himself around as sleep took him.

That didn't leave many options. Eve would never come to him here. She rarely left her cabin and he knew with Marie here, he couldn't go to her. What if she had another nightmare and needed him? Even if she didn't, she was a child and he couldn't leave her alone. While he was happy that Logan had made a connection with Marie strong enough to warrant sending her into his keeping, a small part of him resented the restrictions her presence placed upon him. He enjoyed very few personal freedoms and he felt the loss of this one keenly. Clearly, the addition of Marie to his life was going to take a considerable amount of adjustment. He'd anticipated it would, but he was beginning to realize the extent of this commitment went far deeper than even he'd imagined.

He felt almost exactly the same as he had the day he'd stared at the base for the first time and realized he not only had to carve out a place for himself, but for everyone who depended on him for survival. Marie's arrival, and the idea that he was now part of a family unit, garnered many of the same feelings he'd experienced sizing up the base that day so long ago, and many of the same fears.

Once again, a task of monumental proportions sat before him, and as he'd done that day as his red gaze swept over the base for the first time, his thoughts turned inward. Was he strong enough, wise enough, to rise to this new challenge? And again, the answer was the same.

He must be.

He _had_ to be.

The price for failure was too dear. He knew all too well what demons waited in the chasm of darkness, ready to swallow Logan if he failed. They were the same demons that whispered in the depths of his own dark dreams.

Scott thought again of Charles and of his continuing search for hope. How strange that life repeated itself so. His mentor was gone, but that hope for the next generation still remained. It lived on in him, in Logan, in all mutants who dreamed of sweeter tomorrows to get themselves through the horrors of today. It dwelled in the hearts of men who dreamed of a life no longer lived alone and in the children who flourished under their fierce care. And for Scott and Logan, hope lived in the knowledge that Kitty and Marie would one day cross the threshold from child to woman and join them as full partners in life, bringing light to their darkness and solace to hearts that for too long had held their ground alone.

**~ End Book I ~**

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you all so much! I don't think I've ever had as much fun reading feedback in my life. :) As for the story, yep – this part ends there. Sorry! I know what you're thinking: _WTF?! A coming-of-age story where nobody ages up? Where's my W/R nookie? Scott and Kitty? Nothin' for them either? Screw you and the bunny you rode in on, you non-delivering piece of crap… _

Heh.

Before you guys prepare to burn me in flaming effigy, I wanted to say that the story arc does NOT end here. **I've already written three chapters of Holding Ground II. **The next installment (Book II) will begin when Marie and Kitty are teenagers. You'll get all the stuff you want to see. Kitty and Marie manifesting. Everyone getting to know each other through letters and presents. The face-to-face meeting Logan promised Kitty she'd get with Scott before she turned eighteen. (Logan will get his turn for a face-to-face with Marie too! Can't you just see Logan's stunned reaction to Marie coming down the Blackbird's ramp, all curvy and sultry as hell? Heh.) The claiming(s). The sexytimes. ;) The fights! The resolution of the (ahem!) Jean issues, plus Bobby, Jubes, Remy and 'Ro, too.

I'll be slapping an _underage_ warning on this one because you know that Scott and Logan won't be able to resist stealing a few smoochies and whatnot from their prospective mates here and there as the girls get closer to being claimed. They were never any good at following the rules anyway…

**Coming soon: (Like tomorrow or the day after)**

Since I feel like you were shortchanged a bit with Holding Ground's W/R sexytimes (or lack thereof), next up will be a sensual little story packed full of…. well, let's just say this. Logan said it best: "_Strip Chocolate sounds like a game where gettin' licked ain't entirely a bad thing."_

**Strip Chocolate**  
Logan discovers that not all board games are boring when he and Marie give an adult board game a whirl. 4 (steamy!) chapters. (complete)

After that one, I'm going to start posting my new novel, Run. I am SO excited to share this one! I think it might be the most favorite thing I've written to date. I'm a huge fan of stories that are told through little slices of intimacy; those moments when people are truly real with each other. This one is all about that. It's seriously adult in theme and content. It's also currently the most citrusy thing I've ever written….(yes, more than Bittersweet and Strip Chocolate!). I know, I know. I'm shameless!

**Run**  
Logan's claws were in her chest. His life force filled her body. His thoughts echoed in her head, shouting one thing over and over. _Run_. She does... and it takes him a decade to catch her again. 33 chapters (nearly done!)

_And if you all are still with me after that…_

**Shine Against Me**  
Logan and Marie and talk about pornography… and then things get crazy. 20+ chapters (and counting!)

**Walk the Line**  
Marie comes back after taking the Cure. "She'd always defend him though, even now – powerless and helpless, and they both knew it. It didn't even need saying. The care of this beautiful man was written in her bones." 9 chapters (at least 4 more to go)

Yep. Still certifiable! ;)


End file.
